Love's Miracles (17 page)

“Is
that what you think this is all about?” His expression iced over.

Margo
carefully took a step backward. “Isn’t it?”

“Don’t
you think I’m man enough?” He stalked toward her, his fists clenching and
unclenching. “You think I’m hiding ‘cause they cut off my balls?”

Margo
backed away as memories of disturbed patients in the V.A. Center formed, but
her actions weren’t fast enough. Suddenly Zane snaked his arms out and grasped
her shoulders. Before she could react, she was plastered against the hard
contours of his body.

“I’ll
show you how much of a man I am.” He ground his hips against hers. She could
feel the evidence that everything was there. Intact and hard. “Feel that,
doctor
?”

“Zane.
This doesn’t help.” Margo tried to back away. Wariness curled inside, but it
didn’t take control. At some level of understanding, she knew he was lashing
out in anger, more at himself than her. “Calm down. We can talk this out.”

“Talk?”
He released her shoulder and carefully grasped her chin to tilt her face to
his. His other arm tightened around her waist, pinning her lower body against
his hips. “I don’t want to
talk
, doctor.”

Suddenly
the anger glimmering in his eyes disappeared. A strange look of hungry longing
replaced it before he shut heavily lashed lids and closed his mouth over hers.

His
kiss was hard and demanding. Margo felt the temper in the firm lips and stiff
position. But then like his eyes, his mouth softened. Margo could taste the
loneliness and hunger.

Strangely,
it matched an unknown yearning inside her. She had to force herself not to give
in to it. Her heart raced as his lips pressed and the roughness of his beard
scraped her skin. She had to struggle as all sense of herself became lost in a
sudden need and longing. Margo leaned back and pressed her hands against his
chest, but he didn’t let go.

The
world spun in shafts of sunlight and gold. She held herself very still and
tried not to notice that summer heat became forbidden fire. Time suspended, but
she hardly noticed. Her senses filled with his taste, his essence, and the hard
male feel of him. Never in her thirty-five years had she been kissed like this.
It had to stop.

Finally
he tore his mouth from hers, only to tuck his head into the curve of her neck.
His beard brushed her throat. His breath fanned the sensitive skin, hot and
steady. There was no explanation, but it felt right for him to hold her like
this. She wondered how long it had been since he’d held another person.
Touching was an integral part of human behavior. Zane needed this. She could
feel the tremors trace through him as she held herself very still.

“I
don’t know what’s happening and I don’t know how to stop it,” he whispered into
her hair.

Did
she really want him to stop? “This isn’t what you need, although your reaction
to my conjecture about you and the article was probably normal.”

***

Zane’s
curse became muffled in her skin. It was a normal reaction. That’s what he was
having all right. Holding her was turning him on and it was taking every ounce
of his energy to refrain from acting like an animal and pursuing his
normal
reaction
.

If
he was sane, he’d let her go and get a mile away. Instead, he tightened his
hold and let the curves press against the taut readiness of his body. He wanted
her, now, here on the deck.
That
was normal.

But
she was right; it was also dangerous. No way could he give in to her – not now,
not ever. If he did, he might not let her go.

With
effort, he pulled his arms from around her. “You’ll want to leave now.” He
hated saying it but knew it would be best. She’d probably hightail it and never
come back.

“Do
you want me to leave?”

His
glance flew to hers. She looked as shaken as he felt. He had a crazy urge to
reach out and caress her cheek and tell her it was all right. He clenched his
fist instead.

“Under
the circumstances…”

She
lifted her hand to his face, but he backed off.

“I’m
not afraid of you.” Her voice caressed like velvet. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”

Don’t
be so sure
,
he thought. He backed away a couple more steps. The soft look of her was
driving him over the edge. The feel of her was still with him. He wanted to
scoop her into his arms and head up the stairs to the loft.

“But
I can tell you this. I’m not the therapist you should have. I can’t be any help
to you when we react like that to each other. You need to go back to…”

“I
don’t need any therapist. Not you. Not your friend at the V.A. No one. I told
you that from the beginning.”

He
didn’t tell her what he did need her for. Besides the obvious physical
satisfaction, he’d come to need other indefinable elements that her presence
seemed to ignite.

“Do
you have lunch ready? Maybe we should eat.”

Did
she honestly think food would get his needs off his mind? He studied her face:
the features he’d memorized so well, the ones he’d called up in the night when
the stars were the only light that could tell him she wasn’t really there.

“I
fixed all the makings for a hamburger,” he finally managed.

Several
expressions flickered across her face. At this moment she was open, easy to
read. He could see she was having the same trouble as he was and it made his
need stronger.

He
should feel sorry he’d grabbed her, but he didn’t. Every one of those long
weekends he’d wanted to do exactly that. And more. He didn’t feel one ounce of
remorse.

Unless
she decided not to come back. The thought hit him like a blow. He glanced at
her face.

“Come
on. I’ve sliced the tomatoes. They’re out of the garden. Fresh and ripe.”

Her
relieved smile warmed the ice in his heart. He tried not to feel it. The
wildflower scent of her perfume wafted in the air. He turned and led the way
into the kitchen.

You’re
a fool
,
he thought.
Why are you putting up with this? So you can hear her voice? See
her smile? A sucker for big brown eyes.
He reached the refrigerator and
paused before opening it.
No. Be honest. You’re lonely and for the first
time in years you can’t wait for the weekends to arrive.
“And that scares
you, doesn’t it, ole buddy?”

“Did
you say something?” She stood inches away.

“Everything
is ready. Wait here while I grill the meat.”

“Sure.”
She turned her back to him and went to the counter. Zane watched the way her
jumpsuit stretched across her backside when she reached for the seat. His
fingers tightened around the package of hamburger.

Quickly
he went outside and lit the gas burner. The patties took shape, but he hardly
noticed what he was doing. Automatically, he got them ready while his thoughts
spun in crazy circles.

It
wasn’t right to let her continue to travel so far when he had no intention of
telling her a thing. Letting her follow false leads like this one with Amos was
cruel and a waste of her valuable time.

Yet
it wasn’t a total waste, was it? He’d been on the mark when he’d told her she
looked better. She always arrived from the city tense with the stress and
strain common to those who dwelled in the complexities of modern civilization.
By the time she left Saturday the lines across her forehead had disappeared.
When she arrived Sunday she would be all smiles, easygoing and relaxed.

Zane
glanced out at the forest. The redwoods were no longer a refuge but a silent
reminder of his loneliness and the truth.
Okay, so maybe she benefited some
from these trips, but be honest now.
The real reason he wanted her here
wasn’t for that or even to ease out of the isolation. He needed her help, plain
and simple.

He
knew he’d have to talk to her. After what happened today she’d stop coming if
he didn’t. But could he ever talk about the real problem?

Suddenly
he felt afraid. Would he be able to unlock the secrets he’d kept for years?
Maybe so, because for the first time ever he wanted to tell someone what had
happened in the jungles of Nam.

***

Margo
took deep breaths as she sat at the counter waiting for Zane. It didn’t help.
Her nerves were a jumbled tangle of contradictory emotions. That kiss had
shaken her up and she wasn’t quite sure of all the reasons why. Yes, the moment
had been charged with emotion. Yes, she’d been upset thinking Zane had been
disabled. No, Zane hadn’t given her much choice.

But
those were all lame excuses and she knew it. She was a trained and experienced
psychotherapist. The kiss should never have happened. She knew how to prevent
such incidents.

So
why hadn’t she? And why couldn’t she shake the feeling that Zane’s kiss had
meant something deeper than either one of them cared to acknowledge? Margo
pushed at the place settings on the counter. Zane had reacted in a normal
manner given the circumstances. And so had she. All it meant was that she’d
have to be careful how she handled the situation from now on. She’d have to
work hard at maintaining a professional aura of control. Then as soon as she
returned to the city she’d get off this case and refer Zane to someone else.

At
least there was hope for progress; another milestone reached. Zane had opened
up, and he’d done it on his own – without threats, without manipulation on her
part. Now the next step was to get him to talk about safe subjects.

“These
are done.” Zane strode into the kitchen. His movements were stiff, his
expression closed.

“Smells
good.” She took the plate from him and watched him serve them both before
sitting down next to her at the counter.

The
air crackled with the tension between them. Margo could almost hear the snap of
it as she spooned a glob of mustard on a roll before setting a meat patty on
top. Out of the corner of her eye she watched him bite into his hamburger. His
lips covered the food. She tried not to remember what they’d felt like covering
her mouth.

They
needed a safe conversation to lighten the atmosphere.

“How
are your carvings coming along?”

His
mouth was full so she shouldn’t really have expected more than the grunt she
got.

“I’d
like to see how you do it.”

The
hesitation was obvious, but that in itself was a good sign because he usually
didn’t show any reaction at all.

“Unless
you’d rather I didn’t stick around.”

He
considered her for long moments. “I guess we can go take a look.”

Margo
wondered how he managed the cool veneer so well. She thought the strain of
keeping a composed face would be painful.

“Do
you use redwood for your carvings?” she asked.

“Some.”
He finished the last bite. “Mostly I carve from burls. I can get the wood
without killing the tree.”

He
began to explain how he obtained the growth from the sides of the huge trunks.
His tone grew less strained as he delved into the familiar. “A burl forms when
a tree is damaged. Usually it’s from a cut. Scar tissue forms around the cut to
protect it. That’s how the wood gets its swirls and gnarls which make it unique
but difficult to work with.”

As
Margo listened she began to realize Zane didn’t want her to leave. His
concession to discuss his work was an attempt to keep her here. Zane had
progressed farther than she’d thought.

“Do
you have burls in your workshop?” she asked.

“I’ll
show you when we’re done.”

Margo
downed her soda and followed him outside. The fresh mountain air heightened her
senses, or so she tried to tell herself. She refused to admit it had anything
to do with walking beside Zane. She anticipated seeing his work, that was all.
Zane’s art would tell her a lot about the man.

She
stepped into the workshop. From inside the building Zane had an unhampered view
of the meadow and forest beyond. Further delight awaited her as she neared the
unfinished planks filled with Zane’s carvings. Most of them were animals native
to the area. There had to be over fifty. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the
figures.

“They’re
all forest creatures.”

“Go
ahead. You can touch.” He sounded strained, yet there was a hint of pride.

The
finish felt like satin under her fingers. “You use the animals from around here
for models?” she asked.

“They
wander in the meadow.” He ambled toward the wall of glass. “They know I won’t
hurt them, so I can sit here and see everything they do.”

“You’ve
captured expressions on their faces,” she marveled. “How did you get them so
perfect?”

“Hours
and hours of work.”

A
wistful note sounded in his voice and she glanced from a mischievous wooden
chipmunk to him. He leaned against the edge of the window and stared, but she
could tell he didn’t see the scenery outside.