His for the Taking (19 page)

‘Zoe,’ Nick groaned, and his voice made her hungrier, made her take him deeper, caress him more quickly.

He reached down and lifted her to her feet. ‘I need to be inside you,’ he said to her and swept her up into his arms and carried her over to the bed.

When had a man picked her up before? As if she were a delicate fairy princess or something? It didn’t even seem like an effort to Nick.

He laid her on the bed and she pulled him down with her. He landed on top of her and she laughed, loving his weight pressing her into the bed.

The laughter became a gasp as his mouth came down on hers, strong and possessive. He yanked her T-shirt up over her breasts and lowered his head to suck at her nipple, as hungrily as she’d sucked at him.

Without looking, her eyes locked on Nick’s head at her breast, Zoe reached over and grabbed a condom from the bedside table. Nick took it from her and within seconds he had it on and had tugged her jeans down her legs and was positioning himself between her legs. Zoe twined her legs with his, the denim of his jeans rough on her bare thigh. She pulled him closer, dying to feel him thrusting inside her.

But he paused, every muscle tense, holding himself above her with his arms. His shirt was open, his jeans pushed down, and she still wore her T-shirt rucked up over her screamingly sensitive breasts.

‘Nick,’ she said, knowing she was begging, and for once not caring.

‘I’ve never met anyone like you,’ he said. ‘Someone who acts equal to me, who’s just as strong. You’re incredible, Zoe.’

The tip of his penis was just at the entrance to her body. One movement, one fraction of an inch, and he would be inside her again. Zoe arched against him, squirmed, tried to push herself closer, to be joined with this man, to lose herself in the wild pleasure of his lovemaking, and stop thinking about what he was saying. Because he was nearly right. They were equal: in passion, in abilities, in fitness, in pride.

They were equal in just about every single way except for one. Because she loved him.

Then Nick shifted his body on hers. He entered her, filled her, gave her nearly everything she wanted, and Zoe gasped and stopped thinking.

Nick smiled as Zoe reached over and stroked his jaw and chin one more time. Even such a simple touch was exciting. He glanced away from Route 3 to smile at her.

‘You’d think I’d never shaved before,’ he said.

‘You’ve never had a clean-shaven face when I could touch you,’ she answered promptly, and stroked her fingers over his chin again. ‘I like you all fresh and smooth.’

‘I thought you liked the rugged, manly Mountain Man stuff.’

‘Oh, I do.’ Her voice went lower, and Nick glanced away from the road again to see her wide, sexy smile. ‘I like it very much. I’ve got stubble marks all over my body to prove how much I like it.’ She pulled out the neck of her T-shirt and showed him a red mark on her fair skin, where he’d kissed and nipped at her collar-bone this morning, on his way downwards to her gorgeous breasts.

He had to force himself to look back at the road before he drove into the back of the pulp truck ahead of him.

He wanted her even more than he had before. It was as if making love to her only confirmed and added to his attraction, made him learn more about why she was desirable.

This was definitely something that had never happened to him before.

He took his right hand off the wheel and ran it slowly up the firm length of her thigh. He heard Zoe sigh in pleasure at the caress. This was another thing. Her body was beautiful, even sexier than he’d imagined after seeing her in skimpy Lycra. But it wasn’t just her body that drove him wild. It was her, her softness inside, her unashamed passion. The way she was putty in his hands one moment and the next moment was taking charge. A confident, smart-mouthed woman; an uncertain, vulnerable woman; a sexy, feminine, strong woman; a bundle of contradictions that added up to the most fascinating person he’d ever met.

‘How much longer till Southwest Harbour?’ Zoe asked.

‘With off-season traffic, it’ll take us about fifteen minutes from the bridge onto Mount Desert Island. Which is just up there.’ He pointed.

Zoe rolled down the window to look, and then she withdrew her head quickly. ‘Ugh. I thought you said Maine smelled good.’

‘That’s the salt marshes. It smells better on the island.’ Nick squeezed her thigh and thought about her smell. Soap, skin, that elusive perfume, Zoe warmth. The places where her smell was most her: between her breasts, on the inside of her thigh, on the side of her neck. He felt his loins stirring.

‘Where do you live?’

‘I’ve got a cabin on the mainland, on a lake not far from Ellsworth that we just drove through. Property on the island is expensive.’

‘You live back there? Why didn’t we stop? You must be sick of living out of a backpack.’

‘I’m used to it.’ He glanced over at her again. ‘You’re right, though. We should have stopped. I haven’t had sex with you for about four hours, and I’ve got a double bed at home.’

Zoe grinned. ‘I’m sure my great-aunt’s house has plenty of beds. And couches. And tables. And—’

‘Stop talking about it or I’m going to drive us off the road,’ Nick groaned. The stirring in his pants had grown to epic proportions.

Uncomfortable as his raging erection made him, he couldn’t help but appreciate the difference between this drive up to Maine with Zoe, and his drive alone down to New York. On his way to New York, he’d driven fast, had only stopped when absolutely necessary, his brain spinning on the letter his father had written, his veins thrumming with rage.

On this drive, his brain was spinning on Zoe, his veins thrumming with desire. He could honestly say he hadn’t thought about his father more than once or twice.

And that was pretty unexpected, too.

Zoe laughed. ‘What do you want to talk about?’

‘Something completely non-sexual, please.’

‘How about the pigeon? He’s getting better, isn’t he? What are you going to do with him?’

‘Her.’

‘What?’

‘The pigeon’s a female.’

‘How can you tell?’

Nick shrugged. ‘Practice. She’s smaller than a male.’

‘Huh.’ Zoe seemed to think about that for a minute. ‘Anyway, what are you going to do with her when she’s all better? Let her go up here in Maine?’

‘That’s the plan. She’ll be able to join a flock up here. Hopefully she won’t miss the NewYork smell and traffic too much.’

‘She might. Not all of us hate it as much as you do, remember.’

Nick turned off Route 3 towards Southwest Harbour. With the pulp truck not in front of him any more, he could drive faster, the sooner to get to their destination and get his hands all over Zoe.

‘I could always bring her back to New York with me when I go,’ Zoe said.

Nothing changed. The road was still clear in front of him, the truck was still rolling forward, the sun was still shining, and Nick’s world flipped over and fishtailed out of the direction he’d been happily following for the past twenty-four hours.

Nick kept his hands on the wheel, his foot on the gas, and kept driving.

She was leaving him.

‘That’s an idea,’ he said, lightly, feeling his hands clench on the wheel so hard his knuckles hurt. ‘Tell me something, Zoe. Since when are you so fond of the vermin?’

‘She’s sort of grown on me.’ Her cheerful voice showed no awareness of how Nick was feeling.

Of course not. She’d never planned on staying with him. First, she’d done her utmost to try to force him away. And then she’d come along with him on a temporary trip. As a temporary lover. Which was just exactly the same way she’d accused him of trying to treat her.

‘When are you thinking of going back to New York?’ he asked, gritting his teeth.

He didn’t look, but he could feel her shrug. ‘Well, sooner or later I’ve got to face up to this inheritance and decide what I’m going to do about it. I’ve decided that annoying my family isn’t really good enough motivation; I’m going to have to do something useful with it. But before that I’ve got to see what your dad looks like. The curiosity is killing me.’

‘Let’s find my dad, then.’

They’d reached the town of Southwest Harbour, and were driving down the main road, lined with pastel-painted wooden businesses. Nick braked, pulled the truck over into a parking space with a jerk of the steering wheel, and threw it into neutral. Without looking at Zoe he opened the door and got out.

She caught up with him halfway to the general store. ‘You all right, Nick?’

No. And of course, he was still turned on. Apparently he had no trouble lusting after Zoe while he was angry at her. Hopefully the inhabitants of Southwest Harbour wouldn’t notice the flagpole in his jeans.

‘I want to ask if anybody here knows my father before we go storming up to Xenia’s house.’ He pushed open the store door and walked in amidst the jangling of the bell. He knew Zoe was behind him because he knew every single breath she took and had for the past few days.

Not that it was going to make much difference.

The general store was set up for tourists and summer people; the refrigerator was full of imported beer and the shelves were full of expensive groceries. Nick picked up a
Bangor Daily News
and put it on the counter, staffed by a middle-aged man in a flannel shirt.

‘Afternoon,’ he said, letting his voice relax into Downeast vowels. ‘Nice day.’

‘Yup, good day for it.’ The shopkeeper took his money and handed over change. ‘You folks here for long?’

‘That depends. Do you know a man called Eric Giroux? I think he might live around here, or be visiting.’

The man’s face contracted in thought. ‘I don’t know an Eric, but there’s Duck, up off Seal Cove Road. I think his last name is something like Giroux. One of those French ones, anyway.’

Duck. Nick remembered an orange hunting jacket, a whistle that made duck calls. ‘That could be Eric,’ he said.

‘Keeps to himself, mostly. He’s caretaker to a couple of the big houses that belong to summer people. It’s a dirt road turnoff on the left, got a snowmobile trail sign marking it, if it’s where I’m thinking.’

Zoe had been standing beside him, though he’d kept his eyes carefully off her. Now she said, ‘We’re also looking for Xenia Drake’s house. I’ve got the address, but it’s pretty vague.’

The man smiled. ‘Oh, ayuh, Xenia. She’s up off the Seal Cove Road, too. I think Duck takes care of her place. Usually she comes by on her way up there. I haven’t seen her for a few weeks, though.’

‘She died,’ Zoe said quietly, and although Nick was still angry he was also proud of the calm dignity in her voice. ‘I’m her great-niece, Zoe Drake.’ She held out her hand, and the man shook it.

‘Oh. I’m real sorry to hear about that. Real sorry. Xenia was a character. We’ll miss her around here.’

‘Yes, I’ll miss her, too.’

Nick didn’t feel like hearing about people missing other people they’d lost. He thanked the shopkeeper and went outside, back to the truck.

Zoe joined him a few moments later. She had a paper bag full of groceries. ‘That’s great news, huh? He’s here. Looks like you didn’t have any reason to go all the way to New York after all.’

No reason, in the end, except to meet a woman who was different from anybody he’d ever met before, both in bed and out of it.

‘Well, at least I rescued the pigeon,’ he said, and climbed into the truck. ‘Let’s go.’ He started the engine while she walked around the truck, and pulled away from the parking spot while she was still buckling her seat belt.

‘Geez, I thought you animal-rescue type people had to be patient,’ she commented.

‘Zoe, I think it’s reasonable that now that I’m about to see my father, I’m feeling a little impatient.’

‘Sure,’ she said, her voice quiet again, and Nick realised he’d spoken both loudly and abruptly.

He also realised he’d told a lie.

Because he wasn’t impatient to see his father. Aside from the automatic process of asking the shopkeeper questions, he hadn’t been thinking about his father at all.

All he’d been thinking about was Zoe. Who was sitting right beside him, being supportive, and who hadn’t left yet.

It was his father he should be angry about. He’d known Zoe for less than a week, and they’d made no commitment to each other. His father, on the other hand, had married his mother and produced two children before he’d walked out for ever.

He thought about his father as he turned the truck around and drove to Seal Cove Road. He knew the road; it crossed Acadia National Park, where he’d been working for the past four years. He’d driven on it and walked on it hundreds of times.

And so had his father. There might have been times when they were both on the same road at the same time. They might have passed each other without Nick even knowing.

‘You okay, Boy Scout?’

He was sitting forward in his seat, every muscle tensed, his foot heavy on the accelerator. Zoe touched him lightly, on the back of the neck. He drew in a breath and did his best to relax, though it didn’t work so well.

‘I’m just wondering how long he’s lived so close to me, and whether he knew I worked here all the time.’

‘Looks like you’ll find out soon,’ Zoe said, and pointed to the dirt road turnoff on their left, marked by an orange snowmobile sign. Nick slowed the truck and pulled into the road.

It was full of potholes and wound uphill through the woods. Every jolt of the truck made Nick’s muscles tense more, as if he were weathering a battery of light punches leading up to a final assault.

He’d thought about this moment for sixteen years. Ever since he’d turned off his cartoons and joined his mother at the telephone to hear that his father was gone.

Zoe’s hand, still on the back of his neck, tightened and he saw that the dirt road ended at a battered white mobile home. There was a wooden shed built next to it, nearly half the size of the mobile home and in much better shape.

He keeps his tools in there,
Nick thought. He turned off the truck and stepped out, in front of his father’s house.

He knew Eric Giroux lived here. It wasn’t the instant emotional connection he’d been half expecting; the place didn’t look familiar at all, and he didn’t have any sort of a feeling about it. Instead, it just made sense. He could imagine his father living in a place like this, in the middle of the woods, with a big new shed for his tools and hunting equipment—much more than he could imagine his father living in New York.