wore had long sleeves and an open throat; she looked feminine and tiny and delectably touchable. In the meantime, she and her mother exchanged swift glances.
Elizabeth rose, reaching for the empty plates. “Well, if you have to work after dinner, you have to, I guess, Zach.”
“Hmm.” That was not the tune she’d been singing previously. Elizabeth had been meeting him at the door with iced tea and long, ego-boosting monologues about how hard he worked, how strong he was and how much he needed a little spoiling. He’d sponged it up, the first two days. By the third day, he was thanking God that Bett was nothing like her mother.
“You two aren’t planning on going anywhere after dinner, are you?” he asked idly.
Bett lurched up from her chair; Elizabeth shot him a startled look. “What on earth makes you say that?” his mother-in-law asked with a little laugh. “I’m going to get you your coffee now, Zach, and if you want some dessert—”
“No, thanks—honestly, Liz. I’m more than full.”
“Well, there are éclairs in the refrigerator for whenever you want them. I made them especially for you; Bett told me how you—”
“Thank you. Where, ” Zach said patiently, “were you two planning on going?”
“I’ll be right back,” Bett promised from the doorway, and disappeared.
Elizabeth glanced at the empty doorway with a sour expression. “We were just going for a little drive.”
“Anywhere special?”
“Can’t hear you,” Elizabeth told him over the rush of both water faucets at the sink.
“Anyplace special?”
“Still can’t hear you. Could it wait until I get the dishes done, Zach? Oh, your coffee…”
“No need,” Zach said quietly, which Elizabeth heard just fine.
He found Bett inside the closet in their bedroom, bending over as she slipped into a pair of heeled sandals. Sniper was lounging on the buttercup-yellow spread; Zach scooped the cat up, plopped him outside the bedroom door and closed it.
Bett stiffened at the sound of the door closing. She gave one quick glance at the interesting scowl between her husband’s brows and went back to fastening the second sandal. “Now, just don’t ask. You’ll be happier.”
“I’m happy enough.”
She shook her head, straightening up. “You have that ‘difficult’ look on your face.”
“What I have is a strong inclination to put you to bed. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for the better part of a week.”
“I’ve got energy coming out of my ears,” she assured him. She flashed him a smile as she crossed swiftly to the dresser. She picked up a hairbrush and rapidly restored her hair to order, unobtrusively glancing worriedly at the mirror at the same time. Did she really look so tired that he noticed? she wondered.
Behind her, the sunset was pouring pastel rays through the windows on either side of their double bed. The vaulted ceiling and huge domed windows were Zach’s designs. Her choices were the gentle yellow color of the carpet and fabrics, and closets that had enormous mirrors on the doors. Nasty things to clean, those mirrors, but then a few candles and darkness and bare skin and those mirrors—and Zach—could produce a remarkable number of variations on a theme…
“Is there some particular reason you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” his baritone growled behind her.
“Of course there is,” Bett said cheerfully. Finally, her hair lay silken and still on her shoulders. She set down her brush. “You wouldn’t approve.” Spraying on a quick whiff of perfume, she turned. “For no good reason. Not to worry.”
“Then why am I worried?”
“Now, we’re giving you a perfect chance to put your feet up in peace for an evening,” Bett teased, but her light tone was at total variance with the sudden rush she made for the door. Zach had to be faster than lightning to catch her, but suddenly his hands were at her waist and the door was behind her. Her husband had the
Elizabeth rose, reaching for the empty plates. “Well, if you have to work after dinner, you have to, I guess, Zach.”
“Hmm.” That was not the tune she’d been singing previously. Elizabeth had been meeting him at the door with iced tea and long, ego-boosting monologues about how hard he worked, how strong he was and how much he needed a little spoiling. He’d sponged it up, the first two days. By the third day, he was thanking God that Bett was nothing like her mother.
“You two aren’t planning on going anywhere after dinner, are you?” he asked idly.
Bett lurched up from her chair; Elizabeth shot him a startled look. “What on earth makes you say that?” his mother-in-law asked with a little laugh. “I’m going to get you your coffee now, Zach, and if you want some dessert—”
“No, thanks—honestly, Liz. I’m more than full.”
“Well, there are éclairs in the refrigerator for whenever you want them. I made them especially for you; Bett told me how you—”
“Thank you. Where, ” Zach said patiently, “were you two planning on going?”
“I’ll be right back,” Bett promised from the doorway, and disappeared.
Elizabeth glanced at the empty doorway with a sour expression. “We were just going for a little drive.”
“Anywhere special?”
“Can’t hear you,” Elizabeth told him over the rush of both water faucets at the sink.
“Anyplace special?”
“Still can’t hear you. Could it wait until I get the dishes done, Zach? Oh, your coffee…”
“No need,” Zach said quietly, which Elizabeth heard just fine.
He found Bett inside the closet in their bedroom, bending over as she slipped into a pair of heeled sandals. Sniper was lounging on the buttercup-yellow spread; Zach scooped the cat up, plopped him outside the bedroom door and closed it.
Bett stiffened at the sound of the door closing. She gave one quick glance at the interesting scowl between her husband’s brows and went back to fastening the second sandal. “Now, just don’t ask. You’ll be happier.”
“I’m happy enough.”
She shook her head, straightening up. “You have that ‘difficult’ look on your face.”
“What I have is a strong inclination to put you to bed. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for the better part of a week.”
“I’ve got energy coming out of my ears,” she assured him. She flashed him a smile as she crossed swiftly to the dresser. She picked up a hairbrush and rapidly restored her hair to order, unobtrusively glancing worriedly at the mirror at the same time. Did she really look so tired that he noticed? she wondered.
Behind her, the sunset was pouring pastel rays through the windows on either side of their double bed. The vaulted ceiling and huge domed windows were Zach’s designs. Her choices were the gentle yellow color of the carpet and fabrics, and closets that had enormous mirrors on the doors. Nasty things to clean, those mirrors, but then a few candles and darkness and bare skin and those mirrors—and Zach—could produce a remarkable number of variations on a theme…
“Is there some particular reason you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?” his baritone growled behind her.
“Of course there is,” Bett said cheerfully. Finally, her hair lay silken and still on her shoulders. She set down her brush. “You wouldn’t approve.” Spraying on a quick whiff of perfume, she turned. “For no good reason. Not to worry.”
“Then why am I worried?”
“Now, we’re giving you a perfect chance to put your feet up in peace for an evening,” Bett teased, but her light tone was at total variance with the sudden rush she made for the door. Zach had to be faster than lightning to catch her, but suddenly his hands were at her waist and the door was behind her. Her husband had the
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