Not Since You (10 page)

He slid his hands around her waist and upwards, pushing her T-shirt and bra out of his way on his quest to her breasts; in moments his long-fingered hands were cupping and squeezing her breasts in his warm palms and tweaking her nipples with his fingertips. Still, his mouth stayed at her sensitive spot, nipping and sucking. Another orgasm coursed through her. Her head fell back on his shoulder. She pushed her breasts into his hands and leaned against his supportive body. His rigid erection pressed her back. "Oh, Zack," she moaned.

"Mm?" He hummed against her neck.

"I…need…to…"

"Hmm?" He pinched her nipples and squeezed her breasts. Oh, she felt empty and aching without him between her legs.

"I need you inside me. Now."

              A flurry of motion and Carrie's cutoffs were off. So was her T-shirt, then her bra. In seconds, she was naked and exposed to Zack Mahoney's hungry, searching gaze. His eyes were like dark, fiery coals as he stared at her body, his hands lingering possessively at her hips. "
Carrie-da.
You're a woman now. You're not a girl anymore." He lifted her up onto the counter and spread her knees with his hands, exposing her most private parts to his hungry gaze.

              A spear of anxiety thrust through her. "What does that mean? You think I'm fat, don't you? Okay, so I packed on a few pounds, but—"

              He dropped his mouth to hers, stopping her protests, pulling her to the edge of the counter so that she had to wrap her legs around his body. His uniform, scratchy and cool, rasped against her naked flesh. Her pussy grew heavy, swollen, and her clit tingled as he moved against her. She needed him as she never had as a teenager. . His lips, his tongue, his teeth, bit and sucked at her mouth in a way that promised all kinds of erotic passion… She groaned as he pulled away.

              "It means—you are perfect." He swept her up into his arms.

              "I'm not going to your bedroom, Zack," she warned.

              "No, you're not," he said. "You're staying right here." He settled her back onto the marble countertop. "Oh. Look what I found." He pulled his hand from behind her and held up the zucchini, his eyes dancing. "What do you think? Wanna try it?"

              She raised her eyebrows at him. "I want
you
, not a vegetable."

              "Then it's me you get." He kissed her neck again. She shivered. "I love you, Carrie Kennedy."

              "Zack." She pressed her hands against his cheeks, looking him in the eyes. The years fell away. She was with the man she'd loved her whole life. She was never going to leave him again. Screw Texas. "Zack. Call me
Carrie-da
."

*****

              "Morning,
Carrie-da
," Zack whispered against her neck.

              Carrie opened her eyes to see the man of her dreams hovering over her, a smile on his morning-rough face. His hair stuck up in little horns all over his head, sleep-rumpled.

              "Zack Mahoney," she murmured, stroking his shoulder, loving the feel of his hot, smooth skin and the bunch of muscles beneath. "You look like the devil in the morning."

              "And you look like an angel." He kissed her with reverence, and Carrie knew she would do best never to leave this man's side again.             

"What time is it?"

              "Early. The sun's barely up."

He rolled onto his back. "Scootch over, will you? Half my ass is hanging off the edge of the mattress."

              "Hey. It's your guest bedroom. Why don't you spring for at least a full-sized bed instead of these wanky twins? What kinds of guests do you get, anyway, who sleep in twin beds?"
              "Not many." He folded her into his arms and sighed. "It's nice to know you're the one who has to leave, this time. Remember how I'd have to sneak out and ride my bike home? I almost got caught by the paper boy a few times. Not that he would have cared, but if he said anything…" He closed his eyes. He had the longest, darkest eyelashes that Carrie had ever seen on any man.

              She smiled to herself, knowing that to mention it would be to slight his masculinity. Then again, he didn't doubt his prowess. He'd risen to the occasion again and again during the night, impressing her each time. She pressed her cheek against his muscular chest and strolled her fingers through the rough mat of hair, loving the way it arrowed down to a vee and pointed its way to his manly bits.

              "Hey now…none of that." He grabbed her hand and moved it away from his dick.

              "Don't tell me you're too tired, my mighty Zackhammer."

              He grunted. "No. But if you want to be out of here before Samantha wakes up, you should go soon."

              Carrie frowned. "Why would I want to leave before Samantha wakes up?"

              "I don't think it's a good idea for her to find us in bed together. What kind of message would it send her?"

              Carrie sat up. Zack's eyes went immediately to her breasts—he reached out a hand to cup her. She pushed it away. "What do you mean,
message
?"

              He frowned. "She's young, she's impressionable—"

              "She's seventeen, Zack!"

              "That's what I said. She's young." He frowned. "I don't want her to think that I condone premarital sex—"

              "Zack!" Carrie goggled at him. "First of all…what do you mean, you don't condone it? You did it! All night!"

              "That's different. That's us. We're older than she is." He sat up, too.

              "She's seventeen!" Carrie repeated. "I was seventeen when we made love for the first time. For the only time, I may add."

              "Yeah, and look how that turned out."

              Carrie wanted to punch him. "Only because you—you…" She trailed off. He what? Rescued her best friend from disgrace by giving her his name and raising her daughter as his own. "I think you're overprotective. She's leaving for college in the fall. And she's not stupid, Zack. She left us last night so we
could
have sex."

              He swung his legs over the side of the mattress and got up with a fluid grace. Carrie couldn't help but devour the sight of his nude body, all muscle and masculinity. And a cute set of manly buns that begged to be pinched. But he was in no mood to play, not anymore. He found his pants and pulled them on. "She didn't. She just wanted to give us time to talk."

              "Talk? Zack. Don't be obtuse."

              He shrugged into his shirt. "I'm not being obtuse. I just don't want her to think she should hop into bed with every guy who comes along."

              Carrie felt steam coming out of her ears. "Is
that
what you think about
me
?"

              He frowned. "No! No, of course not. You don't do that." He paused. "Do you?"

              "I'm leaving." Carrie tossed the covers off. "Crap. I left my clothes in the kitchen."

              "I'll go get—"

              "No!" She held up her hand. She didn't want to look at him.

              She wanted to kill him.

              "
Carrie-da
, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

              "I know what you meant, Zack. I just want to go, right now. Besides, poor Ellie’s probably peed all over the floor I washed yesterday and God only knows what else she’s done. I need to take her for a walk." She got up, dragging the sheets with her, wearing them like a toga, and stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She wanted to kill him. But did she want to leave him forever? Especially now, when they were together again for the first time in years?

She turned to look at him. He stood watching her, a worried frown creasing his face. He was only looking out for Samantha in the best way he knew how, she realized. Always the hero. Older now, but still her Zack. She'd spent her entire adult life looking for and never coming close to finding a man just like him…and now, she was thinking about walking out on him because of a few words? Hypocritical and contradictory, they were uttered out of love for the child he'd called his own. And she was ready to leave him?

Was she crazy? Stupid?

No. She was neither. She was here. To stay. Carrie pushed herself away from the door and moved toward him. "You'll come for dinner tonight, Zack? At my house? We'll talk. I think…if you'll still have me…I think I might be moving back to Rhode Island."

His furrowed brows rose and his frown turned into a wide, white smile so bright it filled the room with happiness. Carrie shivered with joy.
God, I love him.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world." He held out his arms. "You forgive me?"

              Carrie moved into his embrace. She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "I've got nothing to forgive. I love you, Zack Mahoney."

They kissed, long, deep and loving, until he broke away. "We'd better stop before I throw you back into that bed."

"I wish." She pressed her hand to his chest. His heart thrummed beneath it.
Zack Mahoney, I've got your heart in my hand
.

"I can't wait to make you my wife," he said. "Once I do, I promise—I'll never let you go again."

"You'd better not, Zack." Carrie rose on tiptoe to brush a kiss over his mouth. "I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be counting the seconds." He smiled.

Carrie slipped out of his arms and down to the kitchen to get her clothes.

              When Carrie got home that morning, Ellie met her at the door, wagging her tail. Her plastic
après-surgery
cone lay shredded in the center of the foyer, but no other damage met Carrie's eyes. She even walked through the house, checking in each room for ripped clothing, torn bedding, destroyed plaster and light fixtures, or half-eaten furniture. Nothing. Not even a pile of poop. Pretty amazing, considering she'd left the dog alone for twelve hours.

              Still, she felt guilty. She gave Ellie a big bowl of kibble and a dish of fresh water. While the dog ate, Carrie took a shower and thought about where to take her for a walk. Someplace close, where Ellie could run off her energy and she could make plans for moving back to Rhode Island. Back home.

"I'll take you to the beach," she told El Beast, who walked sedately at the end of her leash and jumped into the van without one tug. Something had changed, Carrie thought, something that made her more of a pack leader and less of a tug toy.

Zack.
It had to be Zack.

The dog settled between the driver's and passenger's seats, peering over the dashboard. Carrie stroked the dog's head as she drove. "I don't dare walk you in the neighborhood. I think I'd get lynched. Our neighbors hate you," she said.
I used to hate you. But I don't anymore.

"If it wasn't for you," she told the dog, "I wouldn't have found Zack again."

             
Wuff. Wuff, wuff, wuff,
Ellie huffed softly.

             
I'm talking to a dog,
Carrie thought.
And she's talking back.
"I feel like I'm trapped in a Disney film. The next thing you know, I'll burst into song and clean up after gold-mining dwarves. All we need is a villain."

Ellie gave Carrie a doggie smile, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth. Carrie laughed. "It doesn't matter if you're a dog. You're a good listener."

Ellie tilted her head and studied her with big, cinnamon-brown eyes so very much like Nana's. Carrie could read a question there.
Well? What happened? Where were you? You left me all alone. Bad human. Baaaaad girl.
"I'm sorry that I was out all night. But I was with Zack. I had to be. We had—we needed to—we're together, and this time, it's forever. I'm so happy, El. So very, very happy, for the first time in years." She scratched behind the dog's ear with one hand, holding the steering wheel with the other. "I think…I think everything's going to be all right between Zack and me... I mean, I know it's crazy. We haven't talked in eighteen years. But you know how it is when you just click with someone? It doesn't matter how long it's been since you've seen them. You talk to them as if you saw them yesterday."

It was true. They'd talked, they'd laughed, they made love—all as if the years were hours and the changes time had made to their bodies only made them more compatible. Love, like wine, got better with age. Richer, more flavorful. And more heady. She and Zack no longer held the eager haste of youth or the shyness of adolescence. Instead, they'd spent long, leisurely hours exploring, anticipating and enjoying each other as they never had when young. They'd become drunk—on each other.

              "Ellie, I'm in love." Carrie sighed. "This
must
be a Disney movie. Everything's got a rosy glow."

              "
Jaaaaack?
" The dog yawned and wagged her tail.

              Carrie frowned.
I didn't just hear Ellie say
Zack
. Did I?

              No. Of course not. It was just her imagination. She'd been Disnified. Or, at least,
Zacked
. Everything she saw reminded her of him, so why wouldn't everything she
heard
be that way, too? She was just obsessed with him. He was the love of her life, her past and her future. No matter what happened, Carrie decided, she and Zack Mahoney would never part again.

              She pulled into the town beach parking lot. A few early morning beachgoers were already there, mostly locals and a few tourists eager for the Rhode Island shore. But if they hurried, she knew, she and Ellie could be on and off the beach in no time and no one would be the wiser. Besides, she thought, sleeping with the officer in charge of the town's animal control
had
to have its perks. She grinned to herself and led Ellie onto the sand.

              The dog continued to walk calmly behind her, stopping only to lift her nose to the wind in doggie appreciation. Carrie too inhaled the salty air. She'd missed the Atlantic Ocean. She'd missed home. And…Zack.

              "Oh, for crying out loud," she said. "Let's run, Ellie. I can't stand it. I keep thinking of him."

              "Arf!" Ellie said and sprang off, tugging Carrie along behind her. But she didn't drag. Instead, she encouraged. Together, they raced along the water's edge, playing tag with the waves and leaping at the gulls sailing just out of reach on the sea wind.
I'm so happy, I could soar with them.
Carrie threw out her arms to embrace the day—and the rest of her life with the hero of her dreams.

*****

              "I'm pooped, Ellie," she said later. She lay on the sand, her head pillowed on her dog's side, inhaling the warm, dusty odor of canine. Ellie posed, Sphinx-like, watching the beach. Carrie closed her eyes. She was exhausted.
I'm young at heart,
she thought,
but the rest of my body is on a different clock
.

              The wind whistled overhead, gulls screed, the waves crashed and shushed her into a doze.

              Then, beneath her cheek, Ellie shifted. Carrie heard a low, rumbling growl; it grew louder and deeper, vibrating against her skin. She lifted her head and squinted, shading her eyes with her hand to see the silhouette of a man jogging down the beach toward them. Was it him?

              Not Zack, she thought. Of course not. Ellie wouldn't growl at Zack. "It's okay, El. Shh." She dropped her face to the dog's fur again. But the low rumbling continued, growing louder and louder, until Carrie pushed herself upright to see what the problem was.

              As the man got closer, she could see his features. Less defined, slightly florid…like a yearbook picture taken out of focus.

              Mike O'Hare.

              Her heart began to pound.
Please, don't see me. Don't recognize me. Don't, don't, don't…
The urge to run filled her head. The urge to vomit filled her throat.

              Ellie sat up, then stood. Between her shoulder blades and at the base of her stiffly wagging tail, her fur stood straight, like a wiry gray Mohawk. Her growl was very loud now, a fierce warning to the man who continued to approach.

              He was huge, Carrie realized. He'd always been big, with broad shoulders and strong thighs and arms, but now a beer belly rode roundly over the top of his sweatpants.

              The only thing that hadn't increased was his hair. He now sported a slick comb-over that didn't begin to hide his receding hairline or the bald spot cruising over the center of his scalp. Too bad Ellie couldn't spare some fur.

              "Good morning," he called, sounding jovial. "I just wanted to tell you—there are no dogs allowed on the beach this time of year."

              "Okay," she answered and stood, ducking her head, hoping he didn't try to see her face. She even turned away from him. "Come on, Ellie. Let's go." She could feel Mike's gaze glued to her rear as she bent to pick the leash out of the sand, but she wouldn't let him see her face. She didn't want him to ruin her perfect day. "I'm sorry. We'll just—"

              "Wait a minute." He still sounded jovial.

Carrie winced.
Maybe he won't recognize me through my sunglasses. Maybe…

"Hold it. I'd recognize you anywhere. You're Carolyn Kennedy. Carrie, right? I'd heard you were back in town. Heard about your grandmother."

Damn.
Pervert. Figures he'd know me by the shape of my ass.
She turned, lifted the glasses and looked him in the face.

He smiled broadly, kindly. But his eyes—they were sharp, and they roved over her body like hands. She pressed her lips together, holding back the words of disgust that kept trying to escape.
Pig. Creep. Cretin. Scumbag. Rapist.

"You look great, Carrie. You haven't changed a bit. Let me give you a hug!" He stepped forward, reaching for her. She stiffened, certain that his hug would include an "accidental" brush of her breast, a "playful" pat on her rear end…and at the very least, a greasy kiss on her cheek.

Beside her, Ellie's deep, warning growl erupted.
"Off! Away!"
the dog barked, standing on her hind legs and flailing her paws.

Carrie held the leash taut—she didn't want Mike anywhere near her. But she didn't want him getting bitten, either. She tugged at the dog and stepped back, standing at a safer distance.

Thank you, Ellie,
she thought.
My protector.
"I'm sorry." She faked an embarrassed laugh. "She's my grandmother's dog. She's kind of nervous around people she doesn't know. You know…all that time around elderly people. She's used to it being quiet."

She was babbling. But she couldn't help herself. Her blood raced through her veins, and her stomach felt queasy, like she'd just avoided a head-on collision.

"Right. Of course." Mike nodded. "So, have you seen any of the old gang from school?"

"Zack."
And I wish he were here now.

"Oh. Yeah." His eyes slid away from her, shifty, to the side. Years of journalistic interviews had taught Carrie body language, and right now, Mike was screaming
guilty.
But then he looked back, his gaze direct and narrowed. "His daughter looks just like her mother, doesn't she?"

Carrie's knees grew weak and wobbly.
Does he know
she's his daughter?
She put her hand on Ellie's back for support and nodded. "She does."

"What was her name? Sarah, right?" He smiled, his teeth bared.

He looked like a wolf. Carrie swallowed. Hearing Sarah's name on his lips made her stomach clench. It was wrong. Just…wrong.

"Anyhow, the daughter—Samantha, right? Samantha put in an application for a summer job. Because Zack's on the police force, my secretary put it right on top. She's doing it for college credit." His blue eyes gleamed, predatory and scary. "Thought I'd interview her this week. Do you know her? She a good candidate for the job?"

Ellie's soft, rumbling growl grew louder, deeper. Gurgly, almost, like she was about to bite. Carrie realized the dog
would
bite Mike if they didn't get out of there right away.

And I might puke on him
.

She shook the leash. "I—she—I don't know her that well. I can't say. But my dog—I have to go." She took another step back.

Mike flicked a glance down at the dog; his jovial mask slipped, revealing the cruelty beneath. "Okay. Before many more tourists get here. Just—don't bring the dog on the beach again. Right?"

"Fine. Good."
Bye.
Carrie began moving away. She could feel Mike watching her, could imagine the appraising way he studied her ass. She broke into a run.

*****

"You look like the cat that swallowed the canary," Samantha said, carrying her bagel to the table and sitting across from Zack.

He swallowed his mouthful of coffee and put his mug down. "I do not," he said. Did he? He wouldn't be surprised. He
felt
like the cat that swallowed the canary.

"Come on, Dad. You and Carrie…" She gave him an eyebrow wiggle—an eyebrow wiggle!—and a grin. "I didn't get home until after one o'clock, and you weren't waiting up for me. As usual. And—you weren't in your room, either. But the guest bedroom door was closed." She picked up her bagel. "So…?"

So? So…what?
He picked up his mug and took another gulp; it scalded his throat. What the hell. He wasn't going to sit here and talk about his sex life with his little girl.

She wasn't supposed to
know
he had a sex life.

Shit.
She wasn't even supposed to know about
sex
.

"Da-ad. Puh-lease. I'm not three. I
know
she stayed here last night. I'm not stupid." Samantha rolled her eyes at him.

Wait a minute…
"I am
not
comfortable discussing this with you."

"You have to discuss it sometime, Dad. I mean…you can't imagine that you're going to spend the rest of the summer sneaking around behind my back just because you're not comfortable discussing the fact that you and your girlfriend sleep together."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"She's not? Then what is she, Dad?" Samantha glared at him. "A one-nighter?"

"No!" Zack slammed his cup down. Coffee splashed.