reluctantly stopped trying to argue. There were times when you had to go around Zac because you certainly couldn't go through him. "So when are you going to take this look?"
"In a few hours. I'll set the alarm for three."
"Three in the morning? Isn't that a little early?"
Zac shrugged, taking the paper bag from her and putting it carefully into the hall closet instead of into the garbage. "It's a good time to have a look around. Not many people up and about at three in the morning."
Guinevere went toward him, aware of a growing sense of anxiety. "I'd feel better if I went along."
"No, Gwen. Not this time."
She sighed as her arms went around his neck. "Sometimes you can be a very stubborn man."
"We all have some strong points," he agreed philosophically. His hands wrapped around her waist. "Have I thanked you for coming to my rescue tonight at Gallinger's house?"
"I wasn't sure for a while if you wanted to be rescued."
"Believe me, I wanted rescue."
"She's very beautiful and very rich, Zac."
"I want to be loved for myself, not my genes," he said as he began undoing the fastenings of the red silk dress.
Did he mean it? Guinevere asked herself silently as the red dress slipped to the floor. Did he really want to be loved or was it only one of those throwaway remarks people make when they want to lighten a situation? She wished she knew for certain. There was a great deal she did not yet know about Zachariah Justis. Some things she might never know. But he was here tonight, and that would do for now. She lifted her face for his kiss and closed her eyes as she felt the familiar male hunger reach out to enclose her.
Zac felt the soft swell of her breasts against his chest and forgot about biological clocks and embarrassing confrontations with clients. When Guinevere was in his arms, she was all that mattered. The extent of her response to him filled him with a heady satisfaction that wiped out everything else in the vicinity. This was one element of her nature that he could read with certainty. She was the most responsive, the most honest woman he had ever held.
"If you ever want my genes," he told her thickly as he put her down on the bed and came down beside her, "you can have them for free."
"I'll remember that." Her eyes gleamed up at him in the shadows as she took him into her waiting softness.
Three hours and fifteen minutes later Zac awoke with the alertness he felt only when things were getting nasty. He didn't like the feeling, but he had learned to respect it over the years. He was ahead of the alarm clock and reached out carefully to switch it off before it could ring. Five minutes to three.
Quietly he got out of bed, hoping not to wake Guinevere. But as he pulled on his slacks he realized that she was watching him.
"I'll have coffee waiting for you when you get back," she promised.
He grinned in spite of himself. "If you're planning to use that red-and-black monstrosity to make it, you'd better start early." He leaned over her, planting a hand on each side of her on the bedding. Then he kissed her. "See you by five."
Guinevere wanted to say something else, but there wasn't time. He vanished silently through her bedroom door.
Her staid, plodding, methodical Zac was once again on the hunt.
Chapter Six
The house had once been a stately, if rather overwrought, home for a successful businessman during the first part of the century. Now it was what real estate people liked to call a fixer-upper. The streetlight directly in front of the sagging porch was out, but with the fretful moonlight Zac could see that the plump wooden columns that flanked the steps were badly chipped, as if someone had idly carved on them with a pocketknife. The place had once been painted gray, if one could judge by what remained of the old paint. The porch wrapped most of the way around the aging two-story structure, and the weeds in the uncared-for garden were as high as the railing in some places. The screen door
"In a few hours. I'll set the alarm for three."
"Three in the morning? Isn't that a little early?"
Zac shrugged, taking the paper bag from her and putting it carefully into the hall closet instead of into the garbage. "It's a good time to have a look around. Not many people up and about at three in the morning."
Guinevere went toward him, aware of a growing sense of anxiety. "I'd feel better if I went along."
"No, Gwen. Not this time."
She sighed as her arms went around his neck. "Sometimes you can be a very stubborn man."
"We all have some strong points," he agreed philosophically. His hands wrapped around her waist. "Have I thanked you for coming to my rescue tonight at Gallinger's house?"
"I wasn't sure for a while if you wanted to be rescued."
"Believe me, I wanted rescue."
"She's very beautiful and very rich, Zac."
"I want to be loved for myself, not my genes," he said as he began undoing the fastenings of the red silk dress.
Did he mean it? Guinevere asked herself silently as the red dress slipped to the floor. Did he really want to be loved or was it only one of those throwaway remarks people make when they want to lighten a situation? She wished she knew for certain. There was a great deal she did not yet know about Zachariah Justis. Some things she might never know. But he was here tonight, and that would do for now. She lifted her face for his kiss and closed her eyes as she felt the familiar male hunger reach out to enclose her.
Zac felt the soft swell of her breasts against his chest and forgot about biological clocks and embarrassing confrontations with clients. When Guinevere was in his arms, she was all that mattered. The extent of her response to him filled him with a heady satisfaction that wiped out everything else in the vicinity. This was one element of her nature that he could read with certainty. She was the most responsive, the most honest woman he had ever held.
"If you ever want my genes," he told her thickly as he put her down on the bed and came down beside her, "you can have them for free."
"I'll remember that." Her eyes gleamed up at him in the shadows as she took him into her waiting softness.
Three hours and fifteen minutes later Zac awoke with the alertness he felt only when things were getting nasty. He didn't like the feeling, but he had learned to respect it over the years. He was ahead of the alarm clock and reached out carefully to switch it off before it could ring. Five minutes to three.
Quietly he got out of bed, hoping not to wake Guinevere. But as he pulled on his slacks he realized that she was watching him.
"I'll have coffee waiting for you when you get back," she promised.
He grinned in spite of himself. "If you're planning to use that red-and-black monstrosity to make it, you'd better start early." He leaned over her, planting a hand on each side of her on the bedding. Then he kissed her. "See you by five."
Guinevere wanted to say something else, but there wasn't time. He vanished silently through her bedroom door.
Her staid, plodding, methodical Zac was once again on the hunt.
Chapter Six
The house had once been a stately, if rather overwrought, home for a successful businessman during the first part of the century. Now it was what real estate people liked to call a fixer-upper. The streetlight directly in front of the sagging porch was out, but with the fretful moonlight Zac could see that the plump wooden columns that flanked the steps were badly chipped, as if someone had idly carved on them with a pocketknife. The place had once been painted gray, if one could judge by what remained of the old paint. The porch wrapped most of the way around the aging two-story structure, and the weeds in the uncared-for garden were as high as the railing in some places. The screen door
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