Christie Ridgway Page 6

  “I didn’t think you were suggesting a new dish for Dad’s diner.” Zane sat back in his chair. “What about Green Eggs and Ham?”

  “It was written on a bet. With his publisher,” she said. “The Cat in the Hat uses 236 words. The wager was that he couldn’t write a book with fifty or less.”

  “Fifty or less,” Ryder repeated.

  Harper knew her smile was triumphant. “And to date, that book has sold over eight million copies.”

  Sam Tucker laughed, shaking his head. “I’m going to have to find ours. It’s got to be around the house somewhere.”

  Zane half-turned in his chair, and he studied her face, his gaze warm. Her breath caught. “Aren’t you something?” he marveled.

  “I-I don’t know what you mean.” His intense regard was causing a flutter in her belly.

  “You stuck up for me,” he murmured. “That’s pretty sweet. I was okay with their pestering, it’s what Tuckers do, but nobody’s ever felt the need to come to my defense since I turned fifteen and gained fifty pounds and five inches in half a year.”

  At that, he reached out a big hand and brushed her hair behind her ear. Aware that they were the center of attention for the table, she struggled to hide the shiver he caused. But battling it only served to make her feel it more keenly, more widely, so that the secret caress of his fingertip along the curve of her ear felt as if he was tracing other intimate folds and other sensitive stretches of flesh.

  “Zane,” she whispered, hoping it sounded like a protest instead of an entreaty.

  From several seats away, she saw that Brenda was beaming at her. “I like Harper,” she declared. “I like Harper for Zane.”

  Uh-oh. This shared meal wasn’t supposed to signal a true Harper-and-Zane anything. Except her pulse was stuttering and heat was gathering beneath her clothes and nothing could stop Harper’s imagination—not her good sense nor life experience—from wondering just exactly what real with Zane Tucker might be like.

  Chapter 4

  Conversation at the table buzzed, but Zane didn’t hear it as he gazed into Harper’s upturned face. God, what made her so damn appealing to him? Again, he stroked the curve of her small ear with the edge of his thumb and watched a tiny quiver roll through her small figure. Even beneath the long sweater she wore with a blouse and slacks, he could sense the effect of his touch on her.

  Yeah. So damn appealing.

  He’d never seen such fine-pored skin, a creamy color that couldn’t hide a rising blush. Her eyes, gray as so many spring mountain skies, stood out in contrast to that sweet pink on her cheeks.

  Then a voice penetrated his concentration.

  “I’m with you, Brenda,” Bailey said. “I like Harper and Zane.”

  His hand dropped, breaking the connection between him and the librarian. He briefly closed his eyes and cursed himself for forgetting what he already knew. There would be no Harper and Zane. The humming attraction between them needed to be ignored or severed or smothered—something—because she was a woman who needed a man capable of providing a forever.

  Everybody knew the bull in the china shop could only be counted on to break things.

  “Will you excuse me, please?” Harper said now, scooting out her chair without meeting his eyes. “I won’t be long.”

  She didn’t wait for his response and he watched her quickly glide between the tables in the direction of the restrooms.

  Then he turned his attention back to his family, who had moved on to a discussion of Ryder’s progress on the airfield. As Zane tuned into the conversation, Adam glanced over, saw that he was paying attention and cleared his throat.

  The table went quiet.

  “Bailey,” his brother said. “You brought us together tonight for a reason. Plan to share anytime soon?”

  His sister glanced at Ryder who gave her a little nod. Her gaze went to where her plate had been before Mandy cleared it and all the others away. “You know I’m opening the restaurant at the end of the month.”

  Grandpa Max snorted. “Yes, and half the town is chuffed that a real New York chef is going to treat us to some fine dining, as if the diner isn’t good enough for their fancy palates.”

  “Grandpa,” Bailey protested.

  “It’s the influence of the snooty Westbrooks,” he muttered, then shot a look across the table at the much younger man seated there. “Uh, sorry, Ryder.”

  He looked more amused than offended. “Wait until you have a taste of her beef bourguignon, Max, and you might find your own palate just got a little bit fancier.”

  Zane stepped in before his grandfather could put in another word. “Back to what you were going to say, Sis?” he prompted.

  This time, Bailey’s gaze turned to their father. “I’m going to make an event of it—opening night.”

  “Sounds like a fine idea,” Sam said in an approving tone. “I’ll close the diner early to cut down on your competition.”

  She smiled at that. “I’m hoping you’ll come, too. There’ll be a soft opening for friends and family only on Thursday night as well.”

  “Of course.” Sam beamed at her. “I wouldn’t miss it—or the official open either.”

  “Somebody else doesn’t want to miss those special nights either,” Bailey said.

  Oh, crap. Zane suddenly knew why he’d had spiders walking over him all night. Deep down he’d known bad news was coming, and from the hesitant look on his sister’s face, he could guess exactly what kind of bad news.

  “Don’t everyone freak out,” his sister continued, her shoulders tense. “I know this isn’t what you all might want, but Mom’s saying she’s wants to be there when I welcome everyone to Blue Moon…and I’d like that too.”

  The sudden quiet that followed was deafening.

  At the end of March, Bailey had told him and Adam about their mother’s interest in returning for her Eagle’s Ridge restaurant debut, but neither one of them had put much stock in it. But now their mom had actually committed for real? He traded a glance with Adam, who raised his brows and shrugged.

  Then Sam spoke up, his expression giving nothing away. “You’re saying that Vicky is returning here?”

  She’d left seventeen years before, following her dreams to Hollywood. For eight years she’d starred as the mother on Mother May I, a popular TV drama centered around a family, even as those choices she made ruined her very own in Eagle’s Ridge.

  But apparently Bailey had it in her to forgive. As to what Sam thought…

  “She called to chat a while back, Dad.” Bailey licked her lips. “We’re reconnecting. I…I’m glad.”

  Ryder rose from his chair and came around the table to stand behind Zane’s sister. He put his hands on her shoulders, a certain sign of support. She tilted her chin to glance up at him and smiled a little. “I want her to get to know Ryder.”

  After another silent moment, Sam nodded. “I get it, honey. I’m glad she’ll be here to celebrate with you if that’s your wish.”

  Then he abruptly stood and strode in the direction of the kitchen.

  Zane jumped up, knocking over his water glass in his haste to follow his father.

  He found Sam in the small breakroom, staring at the wall as if the meaning of life was written upon it.

  “Dad?” Zane said, in a voice as hushed as he could make it.

  “Hmm?” He sounded a million miles away.

  “Are you okay?”

  Turning, Sam grimaced. “That should be my line. What about you, Son?”

  “I’m good.”

  His dad slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You haven’t seen your mother in a long time, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you communicate with her at all?”

  “Not since that time I went to LA right after the divorce. Instead of all the ‘fun’ she promised, she shoved a handful of take-out flyers at me and a fistful of cash.”

  Sam nodded, as if he understood the situation. “Something came up on the
set?”

  “They had to re-shoot a scene or a bunch of scenes, what do I know? Only that I didn’t see her until she drove me back to the airport at the end of the weekend.”

  “You never said.” His father’s head bent as if he thought his shoes now held the key to the world’s secrets. “But I’m sure she loves you, Zane.”

  “When I was that bed-bound asthmatic little kid, she was great. Entertained the hell out of me so I didn’t mind so much that I couldn’t keep up with Adam. But the minute I managed to kayak across the river without getting out of breath, it seemed she was on the first outbound plane to that producer who’d seen her in the community theater play.”

  “None of us could keep her here.”

  “Not even you, Sam,” Brenda said, walking into the room.

  He looked up. “I figured that out a long time ago, Bren.”

  “But you held onto the hurt. It’s not been healthy.”

  His expression turned annoyed. “Like you haven’t nursed your heartache over losing Vince.”

  Zane wanted to wince at the mention of Brenda’s husband, killed in action a long time ago. But Brenda herself didn’t blink. “And I realized that on my own when the calendar told me it’s been ten years since he passed. Now I’m working on moving on.”

  Sam’s face softened and he crossed to her, taking one of her hands in both of his. “Brenda, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you.”

  “I understand.” She slipped out of his hold and took her turn at staring at her shoes. “You’re in pain.”

  “I don’t know what the hell I feel,” Sam muttered, shaking his head. “Unsettled. Unbalanced, but I don’t think that I can pin that on Vicky. It’s been a while now since things haven’t been the same. Felt quite the same.”

  Brenda’s head jerked up. “Oh?”

  They looked into each other’s eyes a long, silent moment. Long enough for Zane to get decidedly third-wheel vibes. Crap.

  He didn’t think he could take more alterations to the Tucker family circle.

  “How was your date the other night?” Sam asked Brenda now, his voice almost pillow-talk low. “Did you enjoy yourself? Did that chump you went out with act like a gentleman?”

  “Chump?” Her face flushed, Brenda smiled a little. “You don’t even know the man, Sam.”

  “I don’t want to know him,” Sam said, commandeering the woman’s hand again. He tugged her closer. “But do I want to know something else…”

  Oh, boy. They clearly had forgotten he was in the room. Zane backed out quickly, wondering if it was better that he heard nothing from the pair he left behind. Which was an improvement—more bickering or a telling silence?

  But that question evaporated from his mind when he pushed through the kitchen door and spied Harper on her way toward the diner’s exit. “Hey, where are you going?” he called out, hurrying to her.

  She halted. “Sorry, Adam said you were with your dad. I should have waited to say goodbye and thank you, but I didn’t know how long you’d be and…and I should get going.”

  “Not without a couple of escorts. You walked, right?”

  “I like walking.”

  “Gambler and I do too. Give me have a second to get him. We’ll meet you right outside.”

  “It’s not necessary—”

  “Yes, it is,” he said firmly. “It’s dark. We’ll accompany you.”

  After collecting Gambler from the storeroom, he went out the rear to find Harper waiting at the front, her coat fastened up to her throat and her hands deep in the pockets. His dog lunged for her, but he pulled back, bringing Gambler closer to his knees. “Clearly our need to sign up for deportment classes has not abated.”

  He thought he heard Harper’s stifled laugh as they set off in the direction of her condo.

  “I liked your family,” she ventured minutes later. “I recognized your grandfather. He comes into the library from time-to-time to read La Fenêtre.”

  At his inquiring look, she continued. “It means ‘The Window’ and is a weekly English language newspaper focused on French news.”

  “Ah. Grandpa Max has a special interest there. He was in Paris right after it was liberated during World War II.”

  “Then I certainly won’t let our subscription lapse.” She dug her chin deeper into her coat.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “I’m okay.”

  But he put his free arm around her anyway, tucking her close to his body and matching his steps to hers. Gambler seemed happy enough to amble on his other side, which made for a cozy walk through Zane’s favorite town in the world.

  With a woman who fit against him in a way he shouldn’t like so much.

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry I deserted you back there.” Should he say more? Explain?

  “Bailey told me she delivered some news that may have upset your father. Or upset you.”

  “She did?” His sister had a big mouth.

  “I think she felt she had to say something when you weren’t at the table.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  Then he felt the gentle jab of an elbow. “Are you upset?”

  Only because I can’t start getting used to the feel of you in my arms. “Nah. I was worried about my dad, mostly.” He took in a breath. “Our mom left town a long time ago for a career in Hollywood. Left the family, divorced our dad. She’s coming back for Bailey’s restaurant opening and I haven’t seen her in years and years.”

  “You’re okay with it?”

  Zane hesitated. He wasn’t one much for talking about his feelings and he couldn’t remember the last time a woman had probed for them.

  Bulls in china shops weren’t known for actually having them, he supposed.

  “Zane?” Her hand withdrew from one of her pockets and she reached up to pat his wrist draped casually over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “When I was a kid, I told you I was sickly.”

  “I remember.” Her hand moved down to squeeze his.

  “She was great at keeping me occupied, I’ll say that for her.” He hesitated again. “But then I started getting well and her interest in home seemed to wane in proportion. One of the last things she said to me was ‘You don’t need me anymore.’ For a while I thought it was my fault she left us. That I’d driven her away purely because I started being able to breathe normally.”

  Harper’s feet halted, making his do the same. Then she turned into his body, so that his arm dropped from her shoulder. Yet they remained close together, the buttons of her jacket nearly touching him.

  In the moonlight he could see her big eyes trained on his face. “Tell me you don’t believe that anymore.”

  “I don’t.” For some reason he cupped her cool cheek in his warm hand. “I…”

  Whatever he would have said next was lost when Gambler, impatient or just impulsive, leaped up, his front paws to Zane’s shoulder blades. He stumbled forward, gripping Harper to keep his balance. She gripped him to keep hers.

  And just like that, their mouths found each other’s. At the first taste of her, Zane lost his head.

  It was the fragrance of her hair, he thought. The delicate touch of her tongue when it met his. Or the perfect way she melted against him when he scooped her closer to his body, his free hand on her sweet, rounded ass.

  He angled his head, taking the kiss deeper and she moved in, her arms going around his neck. She was little, so he had to take her to her toes to get the deepest of kisses, but she didn’t hesitate, making a soft, sexy noise in the back of her throat.

  Breaking the kiss so they could take a breath, he nuzzled along the soft skin of her cheek and found her ear. He tongued there, feeling the shiver he set off streak down her body. Her hands shoved into his hair and she brought his lips back to hers.

  The small sign of aggression made him grin inside even as he dove into another hot, wet, drugging kiss.

  Then two loud honks penetrated the smoky haze in his hea
d. His eyes opened and he shifted his gaze to the street. A slow-moving truck was rolling by.

  “Hey, Zane!” a voice yelled through an unrolled window. “Find a bed.”

  “Dude.” Another voice. “Or at least the privacy of a study room in the library.”

  “Oh, hell,” he muttered, jerking back to end the kiss.

  “What?” asked Harper, sounding dazed even as he put her away from him. “What is it?”

  “Morons,” he said, gazing at the tail lights receding in the distance. He’d known not to let this attraction get as far as kissing. Hell.

  “I’m sorry, Harper.” He glanced over, trying not to notice how pretty her mouth was, swollen now. From him. “Really sorry.”

  “It’s just silly teasing,” she said then, and it was obvious she was trying to regather her dignity as she stepped away and smoothed her hair. She didn’t look at him as she fiddled with her collar, embarrassment in every gesture. “Kids making fun.”

  He looked on her with pity. “Harper.”

  “What?” She glanced up, alerted by his tone. “What is it?”

  “After what I said to that friend of Brenda’s in the diner tonight…about finding my own woman?”

  A hesitation. “Yes?”

  “Followed up by getting caught necking in the dark?”

  A second, longer hesitation. “Yes?”

  “In a small, close-knit town like this one—we might as well take out an ad. Everybody will have heard by tomorrow.” He paused, waiting for the onset of guilt. This wasn’t right for her. He wasn’t right for her, despite the fire in those kisses and how bad he wanted to hold her close again and grind his hard cock against her flat belly—which pointed out exactly how he was wrong for her because he was the untamed and undomesticated kind of man who wanted to grind his cock against the shy little librarian.

  “Zane.” He heard that shy little librarian swallow. “Everybody will have heard what exactly?”

  “That you’ve got a man now, Harper.” He hauled in a breath. “And for better or worse, that man is me.”

  Harper strolled through the stacks of books in the direction of the periodicals, taking the long way around in order to avoid the shelves of Westerns. Running her gaze over Zane Grey novels wouldn’t help matters, she knew. It had been bad enough yesterday when she’d been putting together a display of alphabet books in the children’s section. So many darn Zs, each one of them calling up visions of the person she was determined to put from her mind.