Husband Hunting 101 (21 page)

"Look, Jen, I know I said all that stuff about not wanting a commitment, but things have changed." He swallowed, searching for the right words, his mind spinning.

No one had ever loved him unconditionally. He had to make her understand. "I've changed, Jenna. I really have. I'm trying—"

"I wish I could believe that." She shook her head, tears filling her eyes. "But you used me, Zack."

He stroked her hair with his hand, inhaling her sweet scent. "No, I—"

She cut him off, "Yes, you did. Mark told me what you did." She did push away then. "He told me you gave nude drawings of me to your client. That's why you sent me the note. That's why you wanted to see me again, to convince me to let him use them. You didn't even have the decency to come to me and be honest about it. To tell me yourself. I had to hear about it from your brother." Her voice caught. "Do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" A sob escaped her, then she turned and fled toward her car.

The cool evening air around Zack suddenly felt hot as she drove away. Dammit, he'd lost her.

And he had no idea how to get her back.

Chapter 12

Zack dropped his head against the steering wheel of his car and groaned.

He was a fool. Jenna had loved him, unconditionally. But he'd been too big of a coward to chance a commitment.

He'd preached his views on marriage until she had accepted them. She'd taken the small part of himself he'd offered, had asked for nothing more, had
shown
him with her body and her sweetness what true love meant. And now he'd lost her.

She wanted him to let her go so she could move on.

To another man—possibly Blair Murphy.

He glanced back at the house, his head reeling. He'd known all along she wanted a husband, marriage, babies, the whole nine yards, but he'd taken her body and offered her nothing more.

Instead of confessing his feelings the last few days, he'd been determined to get a handle on his damn nervous reactions and his business.

He'd shut her out, tried to save his own hide, tried to keep the sketches from her. But she'd heard about them from Mark—which made the situation worse, made the evidence more condemning, made him appear to be a low-life sleaze, not just a coward.

And now he had hurt Jenna—the only woman he had ever loved.

Zack turned the ignition on his car, his heart dulled with an ache that cut all the way to his bones. Blair Murphy was a nice guy. He'd probably make Jenna a nice husband. They'd have nice kids together. A nice, wonderful life.

And Zack would end up alone, single, having fun, just the way he wanted.

The hell he would.

He wasn't having fun. He was miserable.

He pulled from the driveway and turned on the wipers as rain began to splash and pound the window. Driving as fast as he could through the downpour, he headed toward his apartment. He had to get some things to show Jenna. Then he'd crawl through the mud if he had to to convince her to listen to him.

And maybe while he was down on his knees groveling, he'd summon up the courage to propose.

* * *

Jenna removed her hearing aid, peeled off her clothes, and stepped into the shower, determined to wash away any lingering scent associated with Zack.

Tears streamed down her face and mingled with the warm spray of the shower. She leaned against the cold tile wall, her body shivering as she purged her emotions. She'd known how Zack felt about marriage—he hadn't played games with her, hadn't lied to her, or given her false hopes or promises. It wasn't even his fault that she'd fallen in love with him.

He was just so sexy, irresistible, and sweet. Yes, sweet. Underneath all that tough macho exterior there lay the broken heart of a little boy who'd never known a real, loving home. She'd hoped by loving him she could make a difference, but he wasn't able to commit. If she hung onto him with false hopes, her heart would never survive.

And now she knew about the nude drawings. If only he'd told her instead of Mark. If only he hadn't shown them to another man for business.

She turned off the shower, towel-dried her body and hair, and slipped on a loose nightshirt and a big, comfy terry robe, then padded into the kitchen for some hot tea. Lightning streaked through the sky and thunder rumbled, shaking the windowpanes. Rain slashed and pelted the windows and the lights flickered off, then on, then off again. She lost power completely, and darkness bathed the room.

Reaching inside the drawer, she removed a candle, then lit it and carried her tea to the bedroom. After situating the candle on her night stand, she crawled into bed, cradled the warm drink in her hands, and stared out the window. The sky looked ominous and dark, yellow streaks of light splashing across the sky in jagged formations, the wind whipping the tree branches against the window pane.

But the thunderstorm was nothing compared to the turmoil raging through her. Because the rain and thunder would end, probably by morning.

Her hurt would linger forever.

* * *

Zack glanced at his portfolio where he'd stuffed all the drawings of Jenna, ready to fess up to his secret obsession with her, and to the fantasies of happily-ever-after that had been brewing in his mind the last few days.

He climbed from his car, then slogged through the mud and rain, ignoring the water soaking his clothes and shoes until he made it to her doorway. He tucked his portfolio tucked beneath his raincoat, then rang the doorbell and waited, hoping she wouldn't be frightened by someone at her door so late in the evening. He'd considered calling but had been afraid she wouldn't answer.

Or if she had, that she'd tell him to get lost.

Maybe in person she'd listen to him. He rang the doorbell again and blinked the water from his soaked eyelashes, craning to hear the sound of her footsteps.

Ten minutes later, he'd rung the doorbell a dozen more times and pounded on the door until his fist turned blue. He felt like a drowned rat and Jenna still hadn't answered.

He pounded some more, then realized she might not be able to hear him over the thunder. Cold, wet, and disgusted, he trudged to his car, sank into the small seat, and closed the door. It was only ten o'clock. Maybe the rain would let up in a few minutes and he'd try again.

He couldn't rest until he talked to her.

* * *

The next morning at dawn Jenna stretched and yawned, her eyes puffy from her crying jag. Stretching her arms, she climbed from the bed, started a pot of coffee, slipped in her hearing aid, then went to the front door to retrieve the morning paper.

Angel was opening up today so she had plenty of time to relax before work. Sunshine peeked through the opening in her blinds, and when she opened the door, she squinted at the brightness. Then sunlight flickered on a small sports car. A Triumph.

Zack's Triumph.

What was his car doing in front of her apartment?

Forgetting she was in her nightshirt, she walked onto the sidewalk and slowly approached the tiny vehicle, then gasped in surprise when she saw Zack slumped forward inside.

Panic jolted through her. What if he was ill? Or worse. What if he'd had a heart attack? No, he was too young for a heart attack. What if he'd been mugged?

Frantic with worry, she jerked the door open and pressed her hand on his back. He was breathing. Thank God.

She shook him. "Zack, are you all right?"

He groaned and moved, his face contorting with pain. His clothes were damp, his hair tousled, and his feet and shoes muddy. What in the world had he been doing?

"Zack, are you okay?"

He moaned again, raised his head from the steering wheel, and opened one eye. Wincing as if he was in pain, he tried to move, then opened the other eye.

"Zack, answer me. What's wrong?"

"Beautiful, Jenna," he said in a groggy voice. Then he rubbed his face and stared up at her, a childlike innocence in his eyes. "You're gorgeous in the morning," he whispered in a rough voice.

Jenna gaped at him, tongue-tied.

"I forgot to tell you that the night we stayed together," he murmured. "But you really are beautiful."

Jenna's pulse began a frantic tap dance. "You drove over here this morning to tell me that?"

He shook his head. "Nope, I came last night."

Her chest squeezed. "You've been out here all night?"

He rolled his shoulders and sat up, wincing again as he leaned back in the small seat "Yeah. I wanted to talk to you," he said in that gruff, sleepy voice that reminded her of the night they'd made love. "I knocked and rang the doorbell forever but you wouldn't answer."

Jenna's hand automatically went to her ear. "I'm sorry, I removed my hearing aid," she admitted. Then she remembered the sketches and frowned. "Go home, Zack. I told you it's over between us."

Zack shook his head, his weary face tugging at her heartstrings. Had he actually wanted to talk to her so much he'd slept in his car?

"Please listen." He shook his head as if to dislodge the sleep from his mind, then reached for his portfolio. "You need to see something."

"Zack."

"Shh. Please."

His pleading eyes softened her heart, and she nodded, but she set her chin stubbornly. "You have five minutes."

Slowly Zack displayed the sketches. Drawings of her in some of the sexy lingerie, of her in a field of daisies, of her wearing a—maternity dress? She stared in awe at the different pictures, all beautifully drawn in charcoal, her emotions captured so explicitly that she felt raw, exposed.

He pointed to the sketch of her in the bubblebath. "I drew this that first night we talked on the phone." He traced his finger over the delicate line almost affectionately. "I couldn't help myself, Jenna. Every time I talked to you or saw you or even thought about you, I had to draw you."

His heated, sleepy gaze and husky drawl rolled over her like warm honey, weaving her into his spell. She swallowed as emotions clogged her throat. The sketch was beautiful, artistic, and full of sensual details. The bubbles in the bathtub rose to cover her; only the slight rise of her breasts was visible, not her entire body. Her neck was arched back with water droplets clinging to her skin, her eyes closed, a dreamy, contented expression on her face.

It was a sexy, very seductive sketch, but not revealing, not crude as she'd imagined. She studied the other drawings, then her gaze rested on a sketch of her and Zack together, one he'd drawn of them old and gray sitting on a rocking porch.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"I didn't mean to give that sketch to my client," Zack said gruffly. "It was an accident, Jenna. I would never have shown these to anyone. I've already told my client I didn't have a release."

She met his gaze again and saw the truth in his eyes. "Then what—"

"I've worked up some other sketches for him, some with Washburn's grandchildren. That's why I didn't call the last two days. I wanted to tie up that job first."

She nodded, still awed by the detail and beauty of the sketches. He'd captured her in her light-hearted mood, then more intimately when she'd lain on the rug of pillows modeling lingerie for him, her eyes hooded with passion. "Zack, these drawings, I—"

"Shh, don't say anything yet." He cupped her face in his hand, tilting her head up, then covered her mouth with a kiss. When he pulled away, her heart pounded at the tender expression in his eyes.

He glanced down at his bedraggled clothes. "I want us to talk, but I want to clean up first."

"It's Saturday, Zack. I have to work."

He nodded and caressed her hand with his fingers. "Just promise me you'll go on that date tonight, Jenna." She started to protest, but he silenced her by pressing his finger to her lips. "Please—just give me one more chance."

She tried to read the emotions and thoughts in his eyes, but her own feelings swirled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty, and she couldn't refuse his request.

He handed her the complete stack of sketches, kissed her again with just enough hunger and need to make her legs quake and her mind go crazy with wanting him. Then he drove away.