“He went on to become a track-and-field star in school.”
Trinity laughed, a light, musical sound that seemed to fill the room, so different to her kitten attempts at a growl.
“Was he checking on how you were holding up in this weather?” she asked.
“That, as well as seeing how I was coming along with a business transaction. We’re negotiating to buy the Dirkins hotel.”
The penny dropped. “So that’s why you were there yesterday afternoon,” she said. “To seal the deal.”
“We’re not there yet.” He struck the match. “The owner’s holding out for more.”
“Fair enough.”
“Except the hotel’s not worth any more. There’s a swag of renovations needed. Updated plumbing and a sheltered forecourt for starters.”
“Maybe he won’t sell.”
“He’ll sell. He just needs more time. He’s thinking with his heart at the moment, not his head.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Only if you want to succeed in business.” Even when it was understandable. He prodded at the weak flames, coaxing them to grow. “James Dirkins built that place himself in the seventies. He’d wanted to pass it down to his son.”
“What’s changed?”
Zack set the poker aside. “His son died recently—tragically, I’m afraid.”
He heard her gasp and imagined her clinging to the baby—to Bonnie—extra tight.
“Poor man,” she said. “Of course he’d be thinking with his heart. Leave him alone. What’s one more piece of real estate to you?”
She was always so ready to jump on his back. “Dirkins contacted us, not the other way round. A year after the accident, he wants to move on. I want to be the one to buy.”
She looked down as she mulled that over. “Because of your attachment to this area?”
“Partly.”
“Isn’t that thinking with your heart?”
With flames eating into the log now, he drew to his feet. “Clever, but it’s not the same.”
“If you say so.”
His grin held no humor. “Sure, I like this location, but I only go into a venture if I’m certain of its viability.”
And if he ended up offering a little more than the hotel was worth, his decision would be based on future returns not sentiment. That kind of attitude got you in trouble. Lines were blurred, misjudgments made. He wouldn’t forget the time, many years ago now, when he’d bought a car from a friend who’d needed the cash. He’d paid too much and hadn’t cared until the vehicle died a week later. The rings had been gummed up using an oil additive to stop the exhaust from blowing smoke and the engine from ultimately packing it in. The sense of betrayal—of being duped because of attachments, because of trust—had been far worse than any money wasted.
Now Zack took another clearer look at Trinity and the baby and headed for his study.
Levelheaded. That’s the way he was, the way he needed to stay. He was only thankful that sex could be uncomplicated. Someone else could deal with heartstrings.
An hour later, returning to the living room from fitting Bonnie with a fresh diaper, Trinity stopped in her tracks.
Seemed Zack had grown tired of his own company and had prowled out from his study, where he’d holed up since their conversation about James Dirkins earlier. But now sorting through paperwork at the dining table, he only flicked her a cursory glance, a brief smile, before collecting his coffee and draining the cup. When she stayed put, wondering again why he’d disappeared the way he had—why he seemed so cool toward her now—he finally met her gaze.
His lidded eyes were dark. A lock of finger-combed strong black hair hung over his brow. She’d never seen a sexier sight than Zack at this moment, somehow managing to loll in a straight-back chair, his jaw bristled with morning stubble. His look was so sultry, lazy and hot—in a heartbeat, she was reliving the scolding heat of desire he’d brought out in her the previous night.
She’d ached to take their embrace to the next level. Falling asleep against his hard heat had almost been compensation enough. She’d felt vulnerable and yet inexplicably safe. Which was a feat in itself. Trust wasn’t her strong suit, and to think she’d felt it with Mr. Loose and Lucky here.
“Do you need something?” he asked.
“I figure I’d better call the office and let my boss know I won’t be in.”
Kate Illis was a fair but strong boss. To survive in business these days, a person had to be tough. Kate had placed her chips on Trinity Matthews when she could have backed other, some might say, more talented writers. Her catch phrase was: find a way.
Needless to say Kate would not be pleased with this wrench in the works. But even now, gazing down at baby Bonnie, Trinity couldn’t regret her decision to stay. Life was full of choices. Sometimes a person needed to put herself out on a limb. Bonnie had needed someone. And if her parents were permanently out of the picture for whatever reason, she’d need someone even more.
Zack was saying, “…should let them know you might not make it in tomorrow, either.”
She frowned. “You really don’t think anyone will be able to get in?”
“Or out.”
Rotating in the chair, he scanned the view through the window. The snow was still falling, growing deeper, it seemed, by the minute. Not for one moment had she thought she’d be in Zack’s company more than a couple of hours, and yet it seemed likely they’d have to put up with each other at least another day. He was the one who’d insisted they stay here and despite what she thought of him—what she’d read—she had to admit that he’d been patient and, in his own way, helpful. However, given his current detached demeanor, it seemed that patience might be running thin. The novelty must be wearing off. He wanted his own space back and, on a baser level, she got that. Normally, she liked her own space, too.
With the cooing baby in her arms, she crossed over and let him know. “I’m sorry you have to put up with me this long.”
His brows knitted then he exhaled. Almost smiled. “Trinity, I’m glad you’re here.”
She brightened. “Really?”
“No way would I have managed alone with diapers and burping and all that rocking.”
She deflated again. He might have come on to her last night—probably out of Don Juan habit—but his real interest in her was clear. She recalled his expression of near horror this morning when she’d lifted diaper-drenched Bonnie into her arms. In so many ways, he was a “strong, capable male” but not when it came to baby business. As long as Bonnie was here under his roof, he needed her. Couldn’t have managed without her. But once the baby was gone…
He was glad she was here?
She feigned a casual shrug. “Guess you owe me one.”
His eyes flashed and a ghost of that familiar mischievous smile touched his lips. “And how do you suggest I pay?”
She let her imagination fly. “Oh, how about a long, decadent vacation somewhere sandy and warm? No snow.”
“Colorful cocktails 24/7?” he asked, finding his feet and moving closer.
“With entertainment when I want it and only the