She gave him a quizzical look; he took a sip of his juice and almost choked on it.
“Aren’t you gonna take a shower? Road dust and heat—”
“Yeah, okay,” he said, pacing away from her. He set down
his cranberry juice and grabbed his duffel.
“You okay?” She looked at him with a slight frown but her tone was gentle.
“Yeah,” he said, hustling past her.
He closed the door and leaned against it, dropping his bag on the floor. He was living the life of a crazy person. It had taken nearly two days to get to this side of the world, would take as long to get back. He was safe from himself on the plane— but five days of this was living hell. One more day, one more night . . . he could keep everything in perspective.
Zach pushed off the door and then froze when he heard her. Anita’s voice floated on the air, her soft melody wrapping around him in a sweet caress. She was singing and making her tea . . . and driving him crazy.
He turned on the shower, almost wetting the arm of his suit and his watch. If things were still cool once they got back state-side, once he got to the bottom of things, once they were out of this surreal tour mode, then, yeah, he’d be game to see how far this could go. But right now, while she was in potential danger, Lowell was lying in a hospital bed, Anne Marie was under suspicion for attempted murder, his godsons might— oh, shit . . . he might become an instant father, just add water, if the worst happened to their parents . . . no. Now was not the time to have a discipline lapse that could mess everything up.
Determined to hold fast to his mission, he yanked off his clothes and stepped into the freezing spray and almost yelped. He could do this, he could do this. Zach soaped his body, willing away the painful erection, rinsed off and then stumbled out of the tub. Not sure why he was rushing, he hurriedly dried off, threw on some sweats and collected his items and cleared out of what now felt like a too-intimate space.
Cool water was still streaming down his neck, chest, and back when he went to hunt for his suit bag to stow his watch and shoes. Fumbling at the task, he didn’t look at Anita while he brought order to his possessions. But when he finally looked up, she held a teacup midair and was staring at him.
“What?” he asked quietly, not sure what was wrong. Then suddenly he realized that he hadn’t grabbed a T-shirt in his haste. “Oh, wow— uh, my apologies,” he said, grabbing his duffel, and turning away from her to ransack it for a clean shirt.
“No complaints,” she said quietly.
He heard her sit down but that only made him rush all the more and yank a shirt over his head backward, then only have to pull it off to fumble with it to get it back on again.
“You know, it’s been a really long day . . . and maybe we should get some shut-eye early tonight, you know?” he said, his words coming out in fits and starts.
“All right,” she said calmly, with a smile, looking at the duffel bag he held in front of him. “But can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah,” he said with a resigned sigh but didn’t move.
“Do you find me attractive?”
“What kind of question is that?”
She shrugged and sipped her tea. “Figured you had opinions about me, maybe things you’d read . . . or have seen in my show and decided that maybe I’m just a little too over-the-top for you, so . . . I don’t know.”
“It’s not like that at all,” he said, slightly lowering the bag. “I know you’re none of the things they’ve said to sell magazines, and we’ve talked about too much stuff for me to think you’re only the performer . . . but I’m trying to do what I was sent here to do, without taking advantage in any way or . . .”
“You’re not taking advantage,” she said, releasing a long sigh. “And I’m not on the rebound, if that’s what you’re worried about . . . or trying to play you.” She patted the sofa next to her. “Can we just talk and be real? Nothing has to happen, but there is chemistry, okay, and I don’t wanna go back to the States and never hear from you again, unless that’s what you want.”
“That’s not what I want, but it’s probably what’ll happen,” he said in a low murmur. “It’s bound to. I’ll get deployment orders, you’ll be traveling and doing things where you’ll need an escort, and I won’t be there.”
“So, you’re not trying to get caught up,” she said in a sad, faraway tone. “That’s about the most real thing we’ve said to one another.” Her sad brown eyes studied him. “I just didn’t understand what I had done to turn you off so badly.”
He shook his head no and dropped the duffel bag. “Does it look like you’ve turned me off?” He briefly closed his eyes. “Anita, I’m just trying my best to be respectful, because I know this has a very short shelf life given our careers.”
“Thank you for at least letting me know that you feel the same way,” she murmured, “and that I haven’t been the only one tossing and turning all night.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said thickly.
“Timing isn’t always perfect,” she said, standing up. She opened the sash of her white terry robe and allowed it to fall open. “Sometimes you have to invest in what you want to work out.” She stepped around the coffee table and held his gaze. “But I know what it’s like to be on the road and be betrayed. There are some things I’m willing to wait for. That’s my pocket change for the rest of this trip.”
He couldn’t move as she walked up to him, kissed his cheek, turned away, and murmured, “Good night.” He listened to the bedroom door click shut and the sound rocketed through his spinal column, the vibration imploding in his groin. One more day and there’d be hours on the plane that would stretch nearly two days. Zach turned off the lights and then sat down on the sofa and leaned his head back. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, and this time if he waited, time was going to run out on him.
Somehow he found himself at the bedroom door, knocking on it lightly. He heard her sniff, but didn’t hear her invite him to open it.