A Little Wild (29 page)

She looked up. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“You were so young.”

He nodded. “It damn near killed me. Damn near killed all of us to lose her. She went so quickly.” His throat constricted.
Hell.

“Was it an accident?”

“Ovarian cancer.”

“Oh no! Did she receive treatment?”

“Yes, but it was too late.” His voice roughened. “Even when she was bald and skinny as a bird, she was still beautiful. She always talked with her hands. Her Italian heritage, you know. Even at the end, she did that. Like a tiny, delicate bird.”

“It sounds like she was very loved. What was her name?”

“Floretta Angelina Manzinelli.” A smile tugged his mouth. His sadness scattered as an image of his bright-eyed mother formed. “Italian through and through.”

“Floretta? As in Floretta House?” Tess straightened and propped a hand behind her on the sheets. “Your father established the charity?”

“Mm-hm. When Mom was in treatment, Dad met a lot of families from other parts of B.C., and he became aware of the financial burden facing people living outside the Lower Mainland forced to find accommodation in Vancouver while their loved ones visited the Cancer Treatment Center. He considered us fortunate not to have to travel for Mom, and the idea for Floretta House developed from there.”

“That was generous of him.”

“Not generous, babe. Necessary. He—and Ethan and I—want to help those families however we can. Even after I leave Halliday, I’ll never abandon Floretta House.”

“Of course not. You’re not that kind of man.” A reflective look entered her eyes. “I can’t believe I didn’t know about this. Lawrence has never said a word.”

“That’s because, years ago, Dad asked him not to. Dad doesn’t like broadcasting the Halliday Enterprises connection to Floretta House. He says that would be like mining the charity for good P.R., which isn’t its purpose.”

Tess burrowed beneath his arm again. For several seconds, she remained quiet. Finally, she said, “That’s where I want you to donate. The charity of my choosing,” she clarified. “I want it to be Floretta House.”

Ah yes, their sexy negotiations in the art-gallery closet. “I know I said I’d donate your usual fee to charity, babe, but I already donate to Floretta House several times a year. Wouldn’t you rather choose another worthy cause?”

She shook her head. Her long hair spread in waves against his skin. She tunneled a finger through the strands, twirling them to mix with his chest hair. “I want it to be Floretta House. That’s where I’ll donate, too.”

“You don’t have to donate, Tess. That wasn’t the idea.”

“I want to. It sounds like your parents had a happy marriage.”

“They celebrated their twentieth anniversary before she died.”

“Well, donating to the charity established in your mom’s name helps me believe happy endings are possible. Not that she died,” she added quickly. “But that she and your father were so happy when she was alive. As long as I can remember, Zach, my parents haven’t been happy.”

A personal revelation? He waited the space of a heartbeat. “Not all marriages work out.”

“Not everyone marries for the right reasons,” Tess responded dully.

He kissed her forehead. “Don’t let your parents’ bad experience put you off marriage, sweets. My parents had their share of problems. What couple doesn’t? But they were a great example that loving, successful marriages are possible.”

“Then why haven’t you married?” She cringed. “Sorry! I’m not hinting that I want to get married. Because I don’t. I mean—”

He laughed. “Hint not taken.” He caressed her shoulder. “At thirty, I’m hardly out to pasture. When the right woman comes along, I’ll know.”

He drew in a breath. He longed to tell Tess that she was the right woman. Or she could be, if she’d let down her guard and trust him, share his faith for their future.

However, for now, his faith would have to suffice for them both.

Zach slept beside Tess, his strong legs tangling her lavender sheets. His face lay in her direction, his expression of a contented little boy in dreamland spurring her smile.

She tucked her hands deeper beneath her pillow.
Oh, Zach. What am I going to do with you? About us?

Earlier tonight, his request to make love, not have sex had terrified her. She’d worried that not focusing on the physical would spoil the amiable affection between them, especially when combined with his unexpected declaration that his feelings went deeper than lust.

Thank heaven he’d realized her reluctance to delve into the “Big F” feelings discussion, because he hadn’t mentioned “loving” again.

Hopefully, their intense sexual bond had prompted his remarks rather than any deep feelings he might have developed. Like most men, he probably regretted mentioning the L word. She hoped so, anyway. Falling in love with Zach Halliday wasn’t part of her sex plan, but him falling in love with her didn’t register on her top ten life goals list, either.

She squeezed shut her eyes. She’d hate herself forever if she hurt him.
Please, please, don’t love me.

Rap! Rat-a-tap-tap!

The frantic knocking on the apartment door resounded into the small bedroom. Tess and Zach bolted up.

“It’s nearly two a.m., Zach! Who could that be?”

“Probably a drunk coming home from the bar, wondering why their key doesn’t work,” he said sleepily.

“Teresa?” a muffled voice called through the door, decimating his theory. “Teresa? Teresa! Open up!”

“It’s my mother! My parents live over an hour away! It must be an emergency!”

What an idiot she was, not plugging in the phone again or turning on her cell. She grabbed her robe and donned it over her nude body.

Zach dragged the rumpled sheet off the bed. “I’ll come with you.” He wrapped the sheet around his naked hips.

“That’s okay. Stay here.”

He leveled her a decisive look. “Tess, I’m answering the door with you. I’m not about to let you face bad news alone.”

“A-all right,” she stammered. “But stay behind me. I want mine to be the first face she sees.” They motored to the entrance.

With Zach’s solid presence offering support, she opened the door.

Despair splotched her mother’s face. Tess ushered her inside.

“Mom! What’s wrong?”

“Your father—” Sob breaking, Mom looked at Zach. “Who’s this?”

“A friend. Has something happened to Dad?”

Mom’s gaze flew back to Tess. “He left me! We were arguing, and he up and left me!” The misery on her face squalled into anger. “After all the years I’ve given him! The best years of my life! After Darla! If I find out where he went, something sure as hell will happen!”

Tess’s mind reeled. Her mother never lost her temper in public. Whatever had occurred was serious—or a horrible mistake.

She touched her mom’s arm. “Everything will be okay. Let’s sit down, and we’ll talk.”

“Talk? Teresa, he’s having an affair! I know he is! Probably laughing it up with his floozy this very minute!”

In Mom-lingo, “laughing it up” equaled sex.

“Dad wouldn’t do that to you.”

Mom snorted. “How would you know?”

A heavy warmth sank onto Tess’s shoulder.
Zach’s hand.
There, for her. Compassionate and reassuring.

She sighed. She didn’t want to send him away, but she had to. Once Mom calmed down, she’d feel mortified to realize she’d unloaded in front of a stranger.

Tess whispered to him, “I’m sorry. I think you should go.”

“No problem. We only get one mother, babe. Take care of her.” He dropped a light kiss to her lips. “I’m sorry for your trouble, Mrs. Sheridan. I’ll be out of here as soon as I can.”

“Don’t slam the door on your way out,” Mom muttered as he headed to the bedroom, the sheet bundled around him.

Tess’s face flamed. “Mom!”

He turned at the bedroom. “It’s okay.” The door shut behind him.

“Teresa,
really
. Taking after your father?”

“Mother! Zach is my—” What? Her lover? Boy toy? Sexcapade partner? “I told you, he’s my friend.”

“I don’t care who he is, as long as he leaves quickly.”

“Mom, Zach isn’t the issue. I’m a grown woman. I care about him.” She did, oh, she did. “He has every right to be here. I have every right to have him here without listening to your assumptions.”

“It’s pretty difficult not to assume, Teresa. He’s traipsing around in a bedsheet, of all things. The lavender sheets I gave you for your birthday. Now you’re telling me you haven’t been laughing it up all night with that gigolo?”

“He’s not a gigolo!” Tess rubbed her aching forehead. “Mom, you came here to talk about Dad, not my love life. Zach is leaving. I’ll make tea, and we’ll talk. Please, Mom, I know you’re hurting. What was the fight about this time?”

Her mother’s face crumpled. “It’s so much more than a fight, Tessie. Your father wants a divorce.”

Chapter Eighteen

Tess dragged herself into the office Monday morning, bleary-eyed and exhausted. Four nights of sleeping on the couch so her mother could have the bed had bunched her back into sore knots. Worse, she hadn’t seen Zach since he’d left her apartment. She’d booked a day off Friday to console her mom, and she and her sisters had remained in communication throughout the weekend, trying to make sense of their parents’ latest blowup.

Mom had returned to the Abbotsford house this morning. Meanwhile, Dad had sequestered himself into a hotel. Tess was having dinner with him later this week, at her mother’s urging. Hopefully, she’d learn something then.

Weariness tugging at her, she sat at her desk and booted up her computer. Outside her window, overcast skies released pale beams of weak September sunshine—an accurate reflection of her energy level. On Saturday, Randi and Jenna had taken Mom shopping, affording Tess a few hours at the office. However, masses of work remained. Looking at the papers littering her desk hurt her eyes. The sooner she finished the due diligence and her new work for Virginia Winslow, the sooner she could reconnect with
human
clients.

She especially missed dealing with small-business owners like the Tanakas.

Like Zach.

Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. She needed coffee, not food. Sending Sammi to Lovin’ would take too long, so she’d settle for the firm’s sludge. The extra-grody vein-combustor in the common break room sounded perfect.

Moments later, Tess entered the break room. Sammi stood near the droning microwave, stirring a mug of coffee and talking to a brunette temp munching a cracker.

Tess had heard the temp was pregnant, which explained why the girl had done basically nothing but eat during her few days at the firm.

“Good morning, Sammi. Hi, Marcy.” Tess bee-lined for the coffeemaker three meters to the left of the younger women.

Sammi glanced over her shoulder. “Hi, Miss Sheridan. Would you like me to heat you a muffin? I’m heating one for Mr. Renfrew.”

“No, thanks. If I get hungry, I’ll heat one myself. I have to keep moving so I won’t fall asleep.”

The microwave beeped. Sammi retrieved Phil’s muffin, and Marcy munched another cracker.

“You work super hard, Miss Sheridan,” Marcy said. “You couldn’t pay me to put in the long hours you junior associates have to deal with. When do you find time for yourself?”

Tess smiled. “I’ve learned to make time.” Since meeting Zach. Before then, her career had consumed her life.

She much preferred it this way, exhaustion and all. She’d finally see him again tonight.

She couldn’t wait.

She rummaged in a cupboard for her coffee mug. As the cupboard door shut, Marcy whispered something indecipherable to Sammi.

“What do you mean?” Sammi asked.

Marcy’s voice rose a smidgen. “Some people are born lucky. If you have money, you can get away with anything. Take Mr. Halliday’s son, for instance.”

Tess tensed. Did Marcy mean Zach or Ethan?

As if on cue, Sammi asked, “Which one?”

Tess hummed a popular tune to disguise her eavesdropping. No one at the firm realized she and Zach were dating, and that was how she wanted their situation to remain. Not only because Zach needed Climbing The Walls to stay confidential until the opening, either. Their pro bono/charity arrangement was too complicated to explain, and she still received a sexual zing from the secret-lovers concept.

“The youngest son,” Marcy murmured.

Zach. Of course. His reputation fed half the rumor mills in the city.

Sammi’s sigh reached her ears. “What a total hottie.”

Hey, hands off!

“I think he’s lazy,” Marcy whispered.

Tess stifled a snort. Hastily, she poured her coffee and returned the carafe to the warmer. She’d love to correct Marcy’s skewed impression of Zach. Unfortunately, then she’d reveal that she knew him as more than Graham Halliday’s son.

“What makes you think he’s lazy?” Sammi asked.

Marcy’s voice lowered. “I read some of my aunt’s files.”

Tess’s eyes widened. Who the hell was Marcy’s aunt? She hummed louder, spoon clunking the sugar bowl.

“You’re not supposed to read the files, just file them,” Sammi whispered.

“Yeah, but…you know the supermarket thing your associates are working on?” Marcy whispered. Sammi must have nodded, because Marcy whispered again, “It’s for him.”

Huh?
The spoon clattered to the counter.

“For Zach Halliday?” Sammi whispered.

“Mr. Halliday is giving him the supermarkets,” Marcy whispered back. “All of them. And he didn’t even have to ask.”

What? Whoa! Back up!

Noisily clearing her throat, Tess turned. Both secretaries jumped.

“Who’s your aunt, Marcy?”

The girl blushed. “I’m sorry, Miss Sheridan. I know I shouldn’t—”

“Who’s. Your. Aunt?”

“V-Virginia Winslow.”

Ah, nepotism. And the cracker-muncher possessed the gall to cast aspersions on Zach?

“I see.” Tess smoothed her skirt with deceptively calm movements. “Do you think your aunt would appreciate you spreading rumors?”

“It’s not a rumor. It’s—”