Falling For Rachel - Stanislaskis 3 Part 14

He had to kneel on the floor to taste her calves, the backs of her knees, the glorious satin skin of her thighs. She cried out when he slid his tongue beneath her panties to sample the hot, sensitive flesh underneath.

Fighting impatience, he tugged them off to give himself the freedom to taste more of her. As the first wave swamped her, she arched like a bow, leaping into Ukrainian when the aftershocks shuddered through her. Freed, her hands groped for him until they were struggling together to strip off his clothes. Heat to heat, she pressed against him, overbalancing him, until she straddled him and her mouth could merge hotly with his.

"Now" was all he said, all he could say, as he gripped her hips.

"I really did mean to take you out," Zack said when they lay on the couch in a tangle of limbs.

"I bet."

He smiled, recognized the sleepy satisfaction in her voice. "Really. We can get dressed and try again."

With a half laugh, she pressed her lips to his chest. His heart was still thundering. "You're not going anywhere, Muldoon. Not till I'm finished with you."

"If you insist."

"That's what free delivery's for. How about Chinese?"

"You're on. Who's going to get up and call?"

She shifted for the pleasure of rubbing her cheek against his skin. "We'll flip for it."

He lost, and Rachel took advantage of the moment to grab a quick, bracing shower. When she came back, her hair damp and curly, a plain white terry-cloth robe skimming her knees, he was pouring them both a gla.s.s of wine.

"I think I'm repeating myself," he said, offering her a gla.s.s. "But you sure look good wet." He'd tugged on his jeans, but hadn't bothered with his shirt. Rachel trailed a finger down his chest. "You could have joined me."

"We'd have missed the delivery boy."

"Since he's bringing egg rolls, you have a point." She moved to the kitchen to get some plates, then set them on the table by the window.

"And I do have to refuel. I only had time for a candy bar at lunch."

Because the mood seemed right, she lit candles. "Nick dropped by the office."

"Oh."

"I wish I had had more time..." She touched match to wick and watched the candle flare. "He caught me between phone calls and before a plea- bargaining meeting."

He watched her move around the room in her practical terry-cloth robe, turning the light into romance with her candles. He wondered if she realized how compelling that contrast was. "You don't have to explain to me, Rachel."

She shook out a match, struck another. It wasn't that she was superst.i.tious, but there was no use taking chances with three on a match.

"I have to explain to myself. He wanted to go to lunch, and I just couldn't swing it. I did talk to him about... the situation."

"About the fact that he's fallen in l.u.s.t with you."

"I wouldn't put it like that." She sighed heavily when the intercom buzzed. After flipping it on, she released the security lock for the delivery boy. "He's simply misinterpreted grat.i.tude and friendship."

Zack took one long look at her in the candleglow. "Whatever you say."

Disgusted, she went back to the table and sat. "You're buying, Muldoon." He took out his wallet agreeably. He had the tab and the tip ready when the delivery arrived. After carrying three bulging bags to the table, he unpacked the little white cartons. In moments the air was filled with exotic aromas.

"Do you want to tell me the rest?"

"Well..." Rachel wound some noodles around her chopsticks. "I started off explaining the difference in our ages. Umm..." She chewed appreciatively. "He didn't buy it," she said over a mouthful. "He had a very convincing argument, and since I couldn't override it, I changed tactics."

"I've seen you in court," he reminded her.

"I explained the ethics of my being his guardian, and how it wasn't possible for us to go beyond those terms." Thoughtful, she scooped up some sweet and sour pork. "He seemed to understand that."

"Good."

"I thought it was. I mean, he agreed with me. He was very mature about it. Then, when he was leaving, he said how it wasn't so hard to wait five more weeks."

Zack said nothing for a moment. Then, with a half laugh, he picked up his wine. "You've got to give the kid credit."

"Zack, this is serious."

"I know. I know. It's sticky for both of us, but you have to admire the way he turned it around on you."

"I told you he was smooth." After peeking in another carton, she nibbled on some chilled chicken and bean sprouts. "Don't you know any nice teenage girls you could nudge in his direction?" "Lola's got one," Zack said, considering. "I think she's sixteen."

"Lola has a teenager?"

"Three of them. She likes to say she started young so that she could lose her mind before she turned forty. I can feel her out about it."

"It couldn't hurt. I'm going to try again, though I'm hoping the feeling will pa.s.s in another week or two."

"I wouldn't count on it." Reaching across the table, he linked his fingers with hers. "You stick in a man's mind."

"Does that mean you're thinking of me when you're mixing drinks and flirting with the customers?"

"I never flirt with Pete."

She laughed. "I was thinking more of those two 'babes' who drop in. The blonde and the redhead. They always order stingers."

"You are observant, Counselor."

"The redhead's got her big green eyes on you."

"They're blue."

"A-ha!"

He shook his head, amazed he'd fallen so snugly into the trap. "It pays to know your regulars. Besides, I like brown eyes-especially when they lean toward gold."

She let his lips brush hers. "Too late." With her head close to his, she laughed again. "It's all right, Muldoon. I can always borrow Rio's meat cleaver if you notice more than her eyes." "Then I'm safe. I've never paid any attention to those cute little freckles over her nose. Or that s.e.xy dimple in her chin."

Eyes narrowed, Rachel bit his lip. "Get any lower, and you'll be in deep water."

"That's okay. I'm a strong swimmer."

Hours later, when Zack crawled into a cold, empty bed, he warmed himself by thinking of it. It had been nice, just nice, to laugh together over the cardboard boxes and chopsticks. They'd sampled each other's choices, talking while the candles had burned low. Not about Nick, not about work, but about dozens of other things.

Then they'd made love again, slowly, sweetly, while the night grew late around them.

He'd had to leave her. He had responsibilities. But as he settled his body toward sleep, he let his mind wander, imagining what it could be like.

Waking up with her. Feeling her stretch against him as the alarm rang.

Watching her. Smiling to himself as she hurried around the apartment, getting dressed for work.

She'd be wearing one of those trim suits while they stood in the kitchen sharing coffee, talking over their plans for the day.

Sometimes they'd steal a quick lunch together, because they both hated to have a whole day pa.s.s without touching. When he could, he'd slip away from work so that he could walk home with her in the evening.

When he couldn't, he'd look forward to seeing her come through the door, slide onto a stool at the bar, where she'd eat Rio's chili and flirt with him.

Then they would go home together. One balmy weekend they would set sail together. He'd teach her how to man the tiller. They'd glide out over blue water, with the sails billowing...

The waves were high as mountains, rearing up to slap viciously at the ship. The bellow of the wind was like a thousand women screaming.

Burying a fear that he knew could be as destructive as the gale, he scrambled over the pitching deck, clinging to the slippery rail as he shouted orders.

The rain was lashing his face like a whip, blinding him. His red-rimmed eyes stung from the salt water. He knew the boat was out there-radar had it-but all he could see was wall after wall of deadly water.

The next wave swamped the deck, sucking at him. Lightning cracked the sky like a bullet through gla.s.s. The ship heeled. He saw the seaman tumble, heard the shout as his hands scrambled on the deck for purchase.

Zack leaped, snagging a sleeve, then a wrist.

A line. For G.o.d's sake, get me a line.

And he was dragging the dead weight back from the rail.

Wind and water. Wind and water.

There, in a flash of lightning, was the disabled boat. Lower the tow line.

Make it fast. As the lightning stuttered against the dark, he could see three figures. They'd lashed themselves on-a man to the wheel, a woman behind him, a young girl to the mast.

They were fighting, valiantly, but a forty-foot boat was no match for the fury of a hurricane at sea. It was impossible to send out a launch. He had to hope one of them could hold the boat steady while another secured the tow.

Signal lights flashed instructions through the storm. It happened fast. Another spear of lightning, and the mast cracked, falling like a tree under an ax. Horrified, he watched the young girl being dragged with it into the swirling water.

No time to think. Pure instinct had Zack grabbing a flotation device and diving into the face of the storm.

Falling, falling, endlessly, while the gale tumbled his body like dice in a gambler's hand. Black, pitch-black, then the white flare of lightning.

Hitting a wall of water that felt like stone. Having it close relentlessly over your head. Like death.

Zack awoke gasping for air and choking against the nightmare water.

Sweat had soaked through to the sheets, making him shiver in the chill.

With a groan, he let his head fall back and waited for the first grinding ache of nausea to pa.s.s.

The room tilted once as he staggered to his feet. From past experience, Zack knew to close his eyes until it righted again. Moving through the dark, he went into the bathroom to splash the cold sweat from his face.

"Hey, you okay?" Nick was hovering in the doorway. "You sick or something?"

"No." Zack cupped a hand near the faucet, catching enough water to ease his dry throat. "Go back to bed."

Nick hesitated, studying Zack's pale face. "You look sick."

"d.a.m.n it, I said I'm fine. Beat it." Nick's eyes darkened with angry hurt before he swung away.

"Hey, wait. Sorry." Zack let out a long breath. "Nightmare. Puts me in a lousy mood."

"You had a nightmare?" "That's what I said." Embarra.s.sed, Zack s.n.a.t.c.hed up a towel to dry off.

It was hard for Nick to imagine big, bad Zack having a nightmare, or anything else that would make him sweat and go pale. "Uh, you want a drink?"

"Yeah." Steadier now, Zack lowered the towel. "There's some of the old man's whiskey in the kitchen."

After a moment, Zack followed Nick out. He sat on the arm of a chair while Nick splashed three fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. He took it, swallowed, then hissed. "I can't figure out how he had a liver left at the end."

Nick wished he'd pulled pants over his briefs. At least he'd have had pockets to dip his hands into. "I think when he started to forget stuff, it helped him to blame it on the whiskey instead of-you know."

"Alzheimer's. Yeah." Zack took another swallow, let it lie on his tongue a moment so that his throat could get used to the idea.

"I heard you thrashing around in there. Sounded pretty bad."

"It was pretty bad." Zack tilted the gla.s.s, watched the whiskey lap this way and that. "Hurricane. One mean b.i.t.c.h. I never understood why they started naming them after guys, too. Take it from me, a hurricane's all woman." He let his head fall back again, let his eyes close. "It's been nearly three years, and I haven't been able to shake this lady."

"You want to-" Nick cut himself off. "That should help you sleep."

Zack knew what Nick had wanted to ask. And he did want to. It might be best for both of them if they talked it through. "We were off of Bermuda when we got the distress call. We were the closest ship, and the captain had to make a choice. We turned back into the hurricane.

Three civilians in a pleasure boat. They'd been thrown off course and hadn't been able to make it to sh.o.r.e before the storm hit." Saying nothing, Nick sat on the arm of the couch so that he was facing his brother.

"Seventy-five knot winds, and the seas-they must have been forty feet.

I've been through a hurricane after it's made landfall. It can be bad, real bad, but it's nothing like it is when it's at sea. You don't know scared until you see something like that. Hear something like that. The lieutenant took a rap on the head, it put him out. We came close to losing some of the crew over the side. Sometimes it was black, so black you couldn't see your own hands-but you could see that water rising up.

Then the lightning would hit, and blind you."

"How were you supposed to find them in all that?"

"We had them on radar. The quartermaster could've slipped that ship through the crack of dawn. He was good. We spotted them, thirty degrees off to starboard. They'd tied the kid-little girl-to the main mast. The man and woman were fighting to keep it afloat, but they were taking on water fast. We had time. I remember thinking we could pull it off. Then the mast cracked. I thought I heard the girl scream, but it was probably the wind, because she went under pretty quick. So I went in."