Nothing Like Love (18 page)

Zach nodded thoughtfully. “Horizontal and vertical.” He was still holding her hand, and now he squeezed it. “You have an original mind, Simone. I like the way you think about things.”

She grinned at him. “You want to know what I like about you?”

“Sure.”

She turned to face him and ran her hands down his hard, sculpted chest. “Your body.”

He looked so impossibly gorgeous as he smiled down at her, his brown hair gilded by the setting sun and his blue eyes crinkled up at the corners. His face was so handsome, his body so perfect . . .

“So this is just a physical thing for you, huh?” he asked.

“Yep.”

He caught her hands against his chest. “I don’t believe you. I think you like the whole package. My heart, my mind . . .
and
my body.”

She smiled up at him. “It would be disrespectful to kiss you at a burial site. Let’s go back to the car.”

She did more than kiss him in the car. Overwhelmed by feelings she couldn’t express, kissing was not enough.

Thank God for skirts.

She was in his lap in the passenger seat when she felt his erection pressing against her. She broke their kiss, scooched back enough to get at his zipper, and lowered it.

Zach inhaled sharply. “Jesus.”

She smiled into his eyes. Then she rose up enough to push her panties to the side and lower herself down on top of him.

Oh, God.

She let her head fall against his shoulder, unable to move for a moment. The feel of him inside her was so perfect she became boneless, speechless, defenseless.

But it was okay that she couldn’t move, because Zach moved for her. He gripped her hips and lifted her up before letting her fall, lifting her up and letting her fall . . .

As her excitement built she regained muscle control. That was when Zach started to lose his, his head thrown back against the seat and his face taut with ecstasy.

He came just before she did and the expression on his face pushed her over the edge. They cried out together as waves of release crashed over them, and then Zach took her face in his hands and kissed her.

His kiss undid her as much as the orgasm had. When she finally came up for air, she knew the awful truth.

She was in love.

It was overflowing inside her and she was terrified it might spill out. So she admitted to the safest part of what she was feeling.

“I love being in Ireland,” she said, her voice trembling a little.

Zach kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips.

“So do I.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

T
he next twelve days went by much too quickly, but Zach managed to persuade Simone to stay one more week with him.

The company flew back to the States after their last performance, and then it was just the two of them. During the day they toured the countryside; at night they made love for hours.

By the end of the third day Zach could hardly keep the words from coming out of his mouth.

I love you.

I love you, Simone.

Simone, I love you.

“What?” she asked one night as they lay in bed. The moon, almost full, shone through the open window and onto her face.

Don’t say it
, he told himself.

“Nothing,” he said out loud.

But later on, after she’d fallen asleep in his arms, he indulged in the impossible fantasy that had begun to haunt his dreams.

A life with Simone after next week.

If the obstacles had only been logistical, he might have seen a way past them. But while he could imagine bridging the ocean that lay between them, emotional distance was harder to cross.

It wasn’t that Simone was holding back with him. She threw herself into everything they did, whether it was riding a horse for the first time or making love in the walled garden at midnight. But it felt a little like love in wartime—a passion shared by two lovers who would never see each other again.

It wasn’t the present that Simone had trouble with. It was the future.

They wouldn’t be able to solve that problem just by talking about it. It was something that ran bone deep inside her—a conviction that only fools planned ahead.

Planning ahead meant counting on people and building on promises, and Simone had decided long ago not to put that pressure on herself or anyone else. She could love people in the moment, and accept love in the moment, but to put her faith in a future she couldn’t see or believe in was as terrifying to her as flying.

Maybe it was because she’d lost her mother so young and in such a terrible way. Maybe it was because her father had had an affair during that time. But Simone was more than the sum of her painful experiences; she’d also made choices in response to those experiences. She was one of the strongest and kindest people he’d ever known, but that strength and compassion had come at a cost.

She was a realist and a pessimist through and through.

She cared about people in spite of their flaws, which was admirable. But Simone’s belief in human frailty far outweighed her faith in human strength—and that would be a hard foundation to build a future on.

On their third-to-last day together he persuaded her to take a boat with him to see the Cliffs of Moher. She’d wanted to drive east to Dublin and spend the night there, but he talked her into the boat trip instead.

He loved Dublin and knew that Simone would, too, so he wasn’t sure why he was so set on seeing the cliffs.

As soon as they parked down at the dock he knew why.

The ocean off the west coast of Ireland wasn’t like the ocean in any other part of the world. There was a wildness and a strength and a beauty to it that he’d never found anywhere else.

Until he met Simone.

His plan was to charter a boat, something comfortable with an upper deck so they could sit back, stay dry, and watch the massive cliffs roll past. But when they arrived down at the dock there was no charter to be had.

“There’s a big wedding on Inishmore Island,” Zach said, coming out of the office. “They needed all the boats to ferry the guests.” He paused. “I suppose if you still want to see Dublin we could—”

Simone shook her head. The salt wind tossed her black hair around her face and whipped the color into her cheeks, and she looked like something out of Gaelic folklore—a selkie maiden or fairy changeling.

She wrapped her hands around his arm and smiled up at him. “We have to go out there. Can’t you smell the ocean?”

He nodded. “I’d love to take you, but—”

“We don’t have to charter a private boat. Let’s go on one of the tourist ferries. There’s one leaving in five minutes.”

He knew those ferries—they packed people in like sardines. “It won’t be very comfortable.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think comfort should be an evaluating factor.”

He wrapped his arm around her slim shoulders and smiled down into her eyes. “All right, then. The ferry it is.”

It was every bit as crowded as he’d feared, and because they were near the end of the line, the upper deck was full by the time they got on board.

“We should stay away from the sides,” Zach advised Simone as they moved with the crowd to the stern. “Down on the lower deck you’re liable to get wet.”

“But I want to see,” Simone objected, taking him by the hand and working her way to the port side. “We won’t get wet. We’re a good four feet above the water.”

“That might not be enough,” he warned her, but he knew he was wasting his breath. Simone leaned against the railing, and he stood next to her, feeling a rush of protectiveness when she snuggled up against him.

“Brr! It’s cold,” she said with a shiver, and he put an arm around her shoulders.

“The cabin’s heated if you want to go inside.”

The boat engines roared to life and they pulled away from the dock.

She shook her head. “We wouldn’t be able to see.”

“Sure we would. They’ve got big picture windows—not to mention seats and a cash bar.”

“I don’t want to look through windows. I want to feel the wind.”

The water was choppy. The farther out they went the rougher it got, and even though he did his best to provide stable support for Simone, she almost got thrown off her feet more than once.

They’d been facing into the waves as they motored out to sea, but now they turned south to cruise beside the cliffs.

Zach knew what was coming.

“Look,” he said. “I really think we should—”

A wave came over the side in an ice-cold gush, eliciting gasps and squeals from the passengers. About half of them rushed into the cabin, and Zach took Simone’s hand so they could follow.

“Where are you going? I want to stay out here!”

He gave her credit for being a good sport but he knew she had to be freezing. His legs were soaked from the thighs down, and even in August it felt like hypothermia could set it at any moment.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, hugging her against him. “I wanted this to be perfect for you.”

“But it is perfect. Look!”

He stared at her for a moment before turning his eyes toward the cliffs that rose above them in all their majestic glory, the waves of the Atlantic crashing at their feet.

He looked down at Simone again, her face rapt as she gazed up at the sight. She honestly didn’t give a damn that she was cold and wet and getting tossed from side to side in this glorified tin can of a boat.

Another wave rolled toward them. Zach moved behind Simone and braced his hands on either side of her, holding her securely between the railing and his body. She gasped when the water gushed over them, but when she turned to look at him, she was laughing, her head thrown back and her face flushed with exhilaration.

This was what their lives together could be like. A marriage between him and Simone would be wild, unexpected, exhilarating, and glorious . . . and comfort would never be an evaluating factor.

The boat pitched suddenly to starboard and Zach lost his hold. They went staggering across the deck, but he wrapped Simone in the safety of his arms before they crashed into the railing on the other side.

He grabbed the iron bar and looked down at Simone. “Are you all right? I’m sorry I—”

She put her arms around his neck and cut off his words with her mouth.

She tasted like the ocean. And as the two of them kissed in the salt spray of the Atlantic with the cry of the sea birds all around them, Zach knew that his life would be empty if he couldn’t share it with Simone.

Lying awake that night with Simone asleep beside him, he knew there was only one solution to his problem.

There were, however, a lot of problems with his solution.

An hour later and no closer to sleep, he slid out of bed, got dressed, and went downstairs to find himself a drink.

It was one o’clock in the morning and he didn’t expect to find anyone else up, but when he went into the bar, his mother and Glen were there. They were sitting on the sofa sharing a bottle of wine.

They looked so cozy together that Zach was about to leave without saying anything when his mother caught sight of him.

“Zach! Come have a glass with us. What are you doing up?”

He sat down in the leather wing chair beside the sofa and accepted the glass Glen handed him. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said.

“Where’s Simone? Will she be down, too?”

He and Simone had given up trying to hide their relationship, but this was the first time his mother had said anything openly about the fact that they were now sharing a room—Simone’s room, since she’d fallen in love with it.

“She’s asleep,” Zach said.

“Ah.”

The three of them chatted for a while about the hotel, about Glen’s birds—one of the hawks had a damaged wing—and about
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
, which Julia and Glen had seen the week before and loved.

After a while Glen said good night, and then it was just Zach and his mother.

“You know,” Julia said, “that theater is for sale.”

“What theater?”

“The one you performed in, of course. You could buy it and start your own company right here in County Clare.” She paused. “Especially if you had a talented set designer working with you.”

Zach didn’t say anything to that. Instead he leaned back in the leather wing chair and gazed at the fire.

After a minute Julia spoke again. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m a mother and I can’t help myself.” She sighed. “In case you hadn’t guessed, I really like Simone.”

He had to smile at that. “I really like her, too.” He paused. “In fact, I’m going to ask her to marry me.”

Julia gasped. “Oh, Zach! That’s . . .” She stopped. “Why don’t you look happy?”

“Because I know what her answer will be.”

His mother’s face cleared. “Don’t be silly. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, my dear. She’s smitten. More smitten than you, if that’s possible.”

He shrugged. “It won’t matter. Simone doesn’t believe in romance. She doesn’t dream about getting married. Her plan for the future is to grow old in a nursing home, surrounded by strangers. That way no one can die on her, cheat on her, or otherwise abandon her.”

“Well,” his mother said, drawing her legs up and tucking them under her. “I’ve had a man die on me, and it was hell. But I wouldn’t have missed the time we had together for anything.”

He smiled at her. “I don’t think Simone looks at the world like that.”

“If you’re so convinced she’s going to say no, then why are you going to ask her?”

He slumped down in his chair. “Because I can’t not ask her. I’m in love. Head over heels crazy in love. I’ve been in love with her since the night we spent at her neighbors’. No, before that. I’ve been in love with her since we traded insults at her friend’s rehearsal dinner.” He sighed. “Simone is the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. And I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t do everything I can to win her.”

Julia’s eyes were bright. “Oh, Zach. Believe me, darling—if you propose like that, she won’t say no.”

He drained his wineglass and rose to his feet. “I wish I shared your optimism.”

She smiled up at him. “So when are you going to ask her?”

“I’m not sure yet. I have to wait for the perfect moment.”