Getting Rid of Bradley Page 13

  “I bet he was.” Zack stopped, putting himself in Bradley’s place, a Bradley used to having Lucy warm and loving in his bed and then suddenly losing her. “I bet he was upset. Why didn’t he move upstairs, too? I’d have been up those stairs like a shot.”

  There was a short silence, and then Lucy said, “Bradley wasn’t you.”

  “Guess not.” Zack shifted uncomfortably. “Want some more pretzels?”

  A FEW MINUTES LATER, Zack took the dogs out for their last ran, made sure the doors were all locked, and then stopped by the fire to say good-night.

  “I’m sorry we had to talk about Bradley,” he told Lucy, his face all shadows, backlit by the fire as he stared down at her on the love seat. “I know it upsets you.”

  “It doesn’t upset me. Thinking somebody was trying to kill me upset me. Talking about Bradley hardly qualifies.”

  “Good.” Zack hesitated.

  Lucy waited, holding her breath, and then he said, “Good night,” and went upstairs.

  “Good night,” she said and turned her eyes back to the fire.

  FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Zack stretched out in Lucy’s old bed in the attic and stared out the little diamond-paned windows.

  He could just go down there and say, “So, Lucy...”

  So Lucy what?

  So Lucy, you want to take off your clothes and have incorrect sex with me?

  Very smooth, he jeered at himself. Just forget it. There is nothing you can say to her that will interest her. Go to sleep.

  But when he closed his eyes, he could see her. And just as he’d feared earlier, he wasn’t having any trouble at all thinking about her naked.

  And she didn’t look anything like Queen Elizabeth.

  “Oh, hell.” He sat up in bed. Think about something else. Something depressing.

  Fast.

  Okay. The Orioles. Game seven of the ‘79 World Series.

  The game appeared before him in vivid, depressing detail.

  And there on third base was Lucy. Naked.

  “Oh, hell,” he said, and fell back against the pillows.

  HER FACE IN THE bathroom mirror was pale under her mass of green curls. Wrapped in her terry-cloth robe, Lucy stared at her hair in despair, and then suddenly leaned to look closer.

  Her hair wasn’t just plain green anymore. Part of it seemed lighter, so that her hair looked mottled in places. And part of it was a lot shorter, too. She ran her fingers through her hair and some of it broke off when she tugged.

  She looked a lot like Einstein had after he’d rolled in chewing gum and she’d had to cut it out of his fur.

  Except he hadn’t been several shades of green.

  Lucy leaned her head against the bathroom mirror. This was the absolute nadir. She would never again look this bad as long as she lived.

  So, of course, tonight Zack was upstairs inspiring in her the most toe-curling fantasies of her entire life. Not that it mattered. Because she wasn’t ever going to do anything about it anyway.

  Was she?

  Lucy stared at herself, lost for a moment.

  Of course, she wasn’t. Why was she thinking about it?

  Because she wanted him so much she’d die if she didn’t have him. She felt hot just thinking about him, the heat starting low and spreading as she thought about his hands, and his mouth, and his body rolling hard against hers, and the heat in his blue, blue eyes, and his mind-numbing, heart-stopping grin.

  No.

  She turned out the light and left the bathroom, depressed beyond reason. By the time she climbed into bed, she was almost in tears.

  It was impossible. If she went up there to Zack right now, and crawled into bed with him like Tina had said, he’d look at her and say, “No.” He’d be sweet about it, but he’d still say, “No.”

  But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d just say, “Are you sure about this, Lucy?” and she’d say, “Yes,” and he’d draw her down next to him and touch her and make love to her....

  Her whole body tensed at the thought of his hands and his mouth, of Zack’s warmth everywhere, of Zack pressing her so close to him that she was seared by his heat. She let her mind go, feeling the way he’d touch her, remembering his kiss in the firelight, the weight of him against her in the alley, on top of her in the driveway, knowing he’d be electric and vital and safe at the same time. She began to breathe more deeply, and her fingernails dug into the sheets as she imagined him first hard against her, and then hard inside her, and she shut her eyes so tightly that she saw stars, trying to feel Zack making love to her.

  And then, finally, when she couldn’t stand it anymore, she gave in to it and sat up in bed, wrapping her arms around herself. She didn’t care anymore about her hair or her robe, or anything. And her mind was as clear as her body was racked.

  I say I want to be independent, and then I lie down here too terrified to go after what I want.

  Independence means going after what I want.

  And I want Zack.

  She slid out of bed, crazy with need for him, and walked with a pounding heart toward the attic stairs.

  Chapter Eight

  Zack sat up in bed and turned on the light when he heard her on the stairs, so his shoulders were naked in the lamplight when Lucy saw him. He stood out in sharp relief against the yellow-flowered wallpaper, the definition of his muscles a hard contrast to the softness of the flowers behind him and the quilt rumpled over him. His dark hair was tousled and his eyes heavy-lidded, and Lucy stopped, frozen both by how beautiful he was and by how much she wanted him. Her need choked her, pressed on her so heavily that she couldn’t breathe, and she leaned in the doorway and breathed him in instead of air.

  “Lucy?” he said, and she found herself floating toward him, drawn by the energy he radiated, feeling at once both suffused with desire and liquid with heat.

  She sank onto the bed beside him, trying to find the right words, any words, but there was so much heat in her that she couldn’t speak. She pushed herself through layers of air with only Zack’s warmth to guide her to him, so that she was almost surprised when her lips touched his. It was like finding him underwater or in the dark, she’d had to penetrate so much to get to him.

  She moved her lips softly against his, feeling the heat there, and then tasted him cautiously with her tongue while he sat, stunned. He was nectar and ambrosia and everything she’d read about; forbidden fruit and lotus, too. She kissed him again, this time falling against him with her lips parted, her tongue slipping inside his mouth to the hot sweetness there, and now, suddenly, he was kissing her back, his hands moving to pull her hard against him, the pressure of his body fining her with such heat and need that she clawed at his shoulders and bit his lip. Then he rolled with her until she was pinned under him, straining against his weight, and he pulled her robe from her shoulders, biting kisses down her neck while his hands pulled her frantically to him again, flesh to flesh, and she cried out first at the heat in him, and then, gratefully, at the sweet roughness of his mouth on her swollen breast.

  Zack touched her the way she’d fantasized, with the same intensity that he lived every minute. His mouth and hands were everywhere, hot on her skin, now light, now rough, until she writhed against him and forgot to feel anything but need and heat and touched him with a hunger that she’d never conceived possible before. He tormented her with his tongue and fingers until she moaned from the frustration and the pleasure. He devoured her with his eyes, his hands, his mouth, intense and focused on her, all laughter gone as he concentrated the entire force of everything he was on loving her.

  And when he slid his fingers inside her, she cried out, opening her eyes suddenly to see him staring at her, his eyes electric with desire for her. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “I can’t believe how beautiful you are. I can’t believe how hot you are.”

  His whole body was tense, rigid with control as he moved against her, and she moved against him, too, relishing his hardness against her softness. Her tongue tr
aced his muscles, and he shuddered under her touch and forced her mouth up to his, crushing her lips against his while he stroked inside her mouth with his tongue. Lucy writhed under the twin tortures of his hands and his mouth, needing him so much now that she finally broke away from his kiss and sobbed aloud.

  “Now,” she said wildly, pulling his hips to her. “Now. I want you inside me, now,” and he kissed her again, swift and hard, and then moved away from her.

  “No,” she said, and he ran his hand up her body to caress her breast again. “Wait,” he said. “Just for a minute. I promise you.”

  She saw him roll over to sit on the edge of the bed, and she reached for him, dragging her fingernails down his back, luxuriating in the shudder it drew from him. She’d never felt so powerful in all her life or so alive, every cell in her body swollen with desire. Then Zack turned back again and pulled her to him and kissed her, tolling so she was beneath him. Lucy arched her hips to his, and then he slid slowly inside her, and she lost her mind.

  She arched up once, sharply, galvanized by the shock of him so hard inside her, bringing sweet relief and tormenting pleasure at the same time, and then she began to surge against him, over and over, again and again, out of control as he moved against her, inside her, over and over, again and again, holding her so tightly that she felt both safe and destroyed at the same time, the tormenting rhythm of him in her driving her beyond pleasure into ecstasy. She wrapped her legs around him, trying to bring him closer, to hold him forever so that the feeling would never stop, and he laced his fingers in her hair and pulled her head back to face him as he rocked inside her.

  “You’re amazing,” he breathed and kissed her, biting her lip, licking his tongue into her mouth as he rolled over, pulling her on top of him, holding her to him as he rocked up into her, and she felt suffocated by the sweet pressure inside her, her blood screaming and hot and swelling in her veins until she exploded in his arms, locked there while her orgasm surged into her fingertips and sent her mind into oblivion.

  Then she lay gasping, feeling the pounding of her blood in her temples and in her swollen fingers, and the hot hard core of her diffusing into warmth and joy. He still moved against her, and as she eased back into reality, she was caught and warmed in the ebb and flow of him in her, and then she felt him tense hard in her arms and moan into her hair, and then they were both quiet, clinging to each other.

  “I didn’t know,” Lucy said finally, when her heart had stopped pounding, her voice muffled against his chest. “I didn’t know there was this.”

  “That makes two of us,” Zack whispered, and his arms tightened around her. “Wait.” He eased himself out of her, and she made a small sound of protest. “I know,” he said softly, and then he turned away again to get rid of the condom. He pulled the sheet up over her where she lay tumbled on the bed, and then slid in beside her, pulling the comforter over both of them. “Next time,” he said, his voice soft with exhaustion, “we’ll go slower. We got a little crazed there. I wanted you so much, but I wasn’t expecting you, and then when I got you, I wasn’t expecting you to be like this.” He kissed her and laughed softly into her hair. “I thought you were a good girl.”

  “I am.” Lucy fought the sex-drugged sleep she was falling into. “You corrupted me. I thought I was going to die if I didn’t have you. I couldn’t have waited any longer.”

  “Thank God, you didn’t. I was so nuts I was having fantasies about making love to you on third base.”

  “What?” Lucy said, losing her fight to stay awake.

  “Go to sleep,” he said and kissed her again before he fell asleep himself, his cheek pressed against her hair.

  Zack, Lucy thought as she, too, sank into sleep. This feels so good.

  I had no idea.

  WHEN ZACK WOKE UP the next morning, he was alone, bathed in the honeyed glow of the sunlight bouncing off the yellow walls. For a moment, he wondered if he’d dreamed the whole thing, but then he knew it had to be real. He could never have fantasized that calm, sensible Lucy could make love like that.

  It must have been real.

  Which meant he was in a lot more trouble than he’d realized. This was the first time his reality had ever been better than his fantasy. He’d found the perfect woman living in a great house with three dumb dogs. The smartest thing to do would be to run.

  The smell of bacon frying wafted up to him. Breakfast. He had a sudden picture of Lucy in the kitchen, talking to the dogs. The same sunlight that was warming him would be filtering through the front windows, making shadow patterns through the lace curtains. The paper would be on the front porch, and the dogs would be ready for a morning run in the backyard.

  It was all calm and quiet and regular and routine, everything he’d never wanted; and now he wanted it and Lucy, too, but most of all just Lucy, blinking at him, and telling him he wasn’t logical, and rolling hot in his arms.

  It was what he wanted forever.

  What do you know? he thought, amazed, and, trusting his instincts as he had all his life, he surrendered without a qualm. So this is it. I never thought it would happen, but this is it. Responsibility. Adulthood. Dogs.

  Lucy.

  LUCY WAS STANDING AT the counter, blotting bacon on paper towels and trying to get her thoughts in order, when Zack walked up behind her and put his arms around her, pulling her close. She melted into him, instantly flooded with warmth and happiness, tipping her head back so that he could bend down and kiss her. Then she turned around in his arms so she could snuggle closer to him.

  “No regrets?” he whispered into her hair.

  “Of course not.” She tilted her face up to smile at him. “You are a wonderful lover.”

  He smiled down at her. “I’d be a wonderful husband, too.”

  Her smile vanished. “What?”

  “I think we should get married.”

  Lucy went cold with panic.

  Married? After five days? She hadn’t even been divorced three weeks.

  Married? With her instincts for men? With her amazing ineptitude at understanding people?

  Married? With all her talk about independence and freedom and...

  Married?

  “No.” Lucy pulled away.

  “Wait a minute.” Zack pulled her back. “The ‘No’ was bad enough. Don’t stop touching me, too.”

  Lucy relaxed against him again, but not with the same melting openness as earlier. “I’m sorry. You surprised me. Thank you very much for asking. That was very gentlemanly.”

  Zack scowled at her. “No, it wasn’t. That was for me. I like it here. I want to stay.”

  “So stay. I like having you here. I just don’t want to get married again.”

  Zack’s scowl deepened. “What ‘again’? This would be like a first time. You’ve never married me before. I’m not like Bradley.”

  Lucy smiled up at him. “That’s for sure.” His scowl disappeared, and then she added, “But I’m still not marrying you. It would be totally illogical. I’ve only known you five days.”

  “Five incredible days,” Zack prompted. “Six, counting today. Admit it. Your life is a lot more exciting since I showed up.” His eyes slid away from hers. “Is that pan supposed to be smoking?”

  “I don’t think you can take credit for the car blowing up.” Lucy drew away from him to rescue the bacon.

  “Well, there have been other exciting moments. I can think of several from last night alone. Hey, don’t touch that. You’ll burn yourself.” He took the pan from her. “Ouch!”

  “Run cold water over it.” Lucy took the pan back and turned on the water.

  “How come I’m always trying to take care of you, and you end up taking care of me?” Zack stuck his hand under the water.

  Lucy began to fork the bacon out of the pan onto paper towels. “I think it’s mostly mutual. I bet if we really analyzed it, it would come out about equal.”

  Zack stopped buttering. “You think?”

  “Yep. Omelet’s in the m
icrowave.”

  Zack opened the door and peered inside. “We’ve got to get married. I love living like this.” Lucy looked at him, exasperated. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she said. “Sit down and eat your omelet.”

  THE MARRIAGE QUESTION put a damper on breakfast They’d moved from loving warmth to polite chill in the space of five seconds, and there were no signs of a warming trend.

  The rest of the morning went downhill from there.

  “I’m going back in to school next Monday,” Lucy said after breakfast.

  “No, you’re not.” Zack studied the kitchen floor. “I think this gunk will come up if we keep soaking it with soap and water. You got another bucket?”

  “Zack, listen to me.” She waited until his eyes drifted up from the floor, and then she spoke slowly and distinctly. “I cannot stay inside this house forever. I have to go back to work.”

  “No.”

  “Listen, you,” Lucy exploded. “You can say no all you want. I’m going back to work next Monday and there’s nothing you can do about it. You have the rest of this week to get used to the idea, and you’d better do it because on Monday, I am out of here.”

  “Not a good idea,” Zack said, and Lucy gave a smothered scream of exasperation and stalked out of the kitchen.

  “Women are so emotional,” Zack said to the dogs. “What do you think about this floor?”

  AT TEN, ANTHONY dropped by, and Zack forgot the floor.

  “Bradley Porter’s using his credit cards,” he told Zack when he answered the door. He walked into the living room and smiled when Lucy came into the room through the dining-room archway. “Hello, Luce,” he said and Lucy went to him and hugged him.

  “What is this?” Zack said. “Unhand that woman.”

  Anthony turned back to him, one arm still around Lucy. “So, you coming with me? We have to move on this. There’s a patrol car out in front to watch the place while we’re gone. Lucy will be fine.”