Читать книгу White Picket Fences - Tara Quinn Taylor - Страница 9

ZACK TOOK ANOTHER SIP of beer, tried to clear his head, to send himself on another path. But the words and pictures just kept coming.

“But she’s a woman.” He’d said the words so innocently, as though his wife didn’t know damn well what she was asking him to accept. Even now, after almost a year, he still couldn’t believe that his wife had left him for a woman. That the woman he’d slept with for six years was more attracted to her own sex than she was to him.

He finished his beer in one long gulp and opened another.

In spite of making every effort not to fall in to the trap, he was back there again, seeing that glow in her eyes…

HE REELED BACK, feeling as though he’d been sucker punched. He had been sucker punched.

“I’m so sorry,” Dawn said, her voice barely audible as her tears started to fall in earnest. “You don’t know how hard I’ve fought this, but I just can’t fight anymore.”

There were a million things he didn’t say. Accusations. Questions. Zack couldn’t speak. Couldn’t even think clearly enough to string coherent thoughts together. He could only stand there and stare at his sweet feminine wife. And wait.

Wait for her to do something. To take back the things she’d just said. Things that were too terrible to bear.

“Last night Barbara asked me to move in with her, and I can’t tell her no, Zack. I want to be with her, to share her life more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. Suddenly things feel right—peaceful. When I’m with her, I feel…complete.”

It just kept getting worse. “How long have you been seeing her?”

“A while.”

“How long?” He was sure it didn’t matter, but he had to focus on something before he crawled right out of his skin.

“I met her last year at the Phoenix Open.”

She’d been there as a company sponsor, schmoozing in a VIP booth.

“You’ve been seeing her for more than a year?” He thought of all the nights he’d made love to her in the past fourteen months.

“For a long time we were just friends.”

“Define ‘long time.”’

“I don’t know. Six months, maybe.”

Which left eight unaccounted for. He nodded, clenching his jaw so hard it ached.

“Then, one night after we’d gone to a movie, she asked me if I wanted to stop by her place for a drink….”

“I don’t want to hear this.” He ordered himself to vacate the premises, but his damn feet wouldn’t move. There was going to be a punch line here somewhere. He just had to wait for it.

“She came out to me that night…”

“What does that mean?” The words were clipped, but they were the best he could do.

“She told me she was interested in having a relationship with me and asked me if that was something I would consider.”

“Friendship wasn’t relationship enough?” he muttered sarcastically. His world was out of control and he couldn’t seem to stop it from spinning faster and faster.

“I know this is hard for you to understand—”

“Damn straight it’s hard,” he interrupted. “Try impossible.”

Dawn sank down onto their bed, and as much as he wanted to hate her, Zack had to admire the way she was sticking this out. Trying to do the decent thing by him. Some distant part of Zack even appreciated the attention she was giving him.

“I’m in love with her,” she said, shaking her head helplessly.

“We’re talking about a woman here!”

“I know.” Her face lined with confusion, she sounded as though she was finding it as difficult to make sense of all this as he was. Except that she’d apparently had a lot longer to get used to the idea. Eight months, to be exact.

Zack turned away. He couldn’t even look at the bed he’d shared with her during the past eight months. Couldn’t think of all the times he’d made love to her.

Oh, God. He felt sicker than ever. Had she been thinking of another woman whenever he’d…

“How does a woman suddenly decide she wants another woman?” he demanded, feeling frustrated. Hurt.

“I suspected I might be a lesbian even before we got married.”

“You had relationships with other women way back then?” He swung around to pin her with an accusing glare. How in hell could he not have known?

“No.” She shook her head, withstood his look. “I could never quite acknowledge that there were just times when I’d feel something—or more importantly, wouldn’t feel something.”

That punched him in the gut. “You were faking the whole time you were with me?”

“No!” She stood, approached him, stopping only when he started to back away from her. “That’s just it. When I met you, when you touched me, I felt real desire for a man for the first time in my life. I can’t tell you how relieved I was.”

Zack held out a hand to her. “Then…”

She shook her head, forestalling his words. “It didn’t last,” she said. “Or at least, not strongly enough. I feel things when I’m with Barbara that I’ve never felt before. This is right for me, Zack. I’m one hundred percent sure of it.”

There appeared to be nothing left to say. Hands in his slacks pockets, Zack wondered how best to extricate himself, pride intact.

“I care very much for you, Zack,” she said beseechingly. He couldn’t figure out why she’d bothered to say that.

“Not enough, apparently.”

“Plenty,” she countered. “More than you’ll ever know. It’s killing me to do this.”

“Then don’t do it.” So much for pride. “Let’s just forget this whole conversation ever took place.”

But could he really? Every time he looked at her he’d have to picture her with—

“I just don’t feel anything…sexually when I’m with you.”

He felt the blood drain from his face.

“I want more than anything to be your friend.”

“I don’t think that’ll be possible.” The cold voice that said those words wasn’t one he even recognized.

Dawn bowed her head. “I understand.”

“Do you?” the stranger’s voice continued.

“Yes,” she whispered, fresh tears pooling in her soft blue eyes as she looked up at him. “Please, please don’t blame yourself for this,” she begged him, touching his arm.

Zack jerked away. “Who else am I to blame when my wife tells me that I’m not only unable to keep her happy in our bed, I can’t manage to keep her at all? That she doesn’t want to be married to me because…because I’m the wrong sex. If that makes any sense.”

“I had the…tendencies before I ever met you, Zack.”

“But I was able to change that. To turn you on.”

“For a brief time, yes.” She nodded.

“Maybe if I’d been man enough, the time wouldn’t have been so brief.” His own voice was back—sort of. It was thick with emotion. Saying things he couldn’t stomach.

“If you hadn’t been such an incredible man, I would never have felt anything to begin with.”

“Perhaps that would have been better.”

“Perhaps. For you, at least.”

He glanced over at her, wondering what she meant by that.

“I’ll never be sorry that I knew you Zack. You’ve added dimensions to my life that I’ll cherish forever.”

He didn’t need any of her sap for his battered pride. He didn’t need anything from her.

He knew what she was saying. Understood that he wasn’t to blame for Dawn’s choices. But deep down in his gut, he still felt responsible. Somehow.

“I’ll be gone tonight,” he told her, striding for the door.

“You’ll need time to arrange for movers and—”

“I don’t want a damn thing from this house,” he said, “except Sammie and Bear. They’re mine.” That was the only thing he was sure of. “You can have it all—sell it all—I don’t give a damn what you do with it….”

A wet nose nudged Zack’s palm, brought him back to the present. He ignored it. He still didn’t give a damn. It was the only way to get from one day to the next. Because you couldn’t take anything for granted. Not even something as basic as love and marriage. One minute it was there, and the very next minute, reality could completely change.

The only given was himself.

The nose nudged him again. Harder.

Looking into Sammie’s big dark eyes, Zack sighed, setting down the bottle he still clutched in one hand. Hell.

He’d gone and done it, anyway—he’d thought of Dawn. Relived that whole last horrible scene—for the first time in weeks.

He’d wallowed.

And he hated that.

“Okay, Sammie, my girl, from now on, we play catch in the evenings, got it?” he asked.

She wagged her tail, turned in a circle and barked.

Now there was one female he could count on.

IN DEFERENCE TO the cooler sixty-degree temperature, Randi pulled a sweatshirt over the usual bike shorts and cropped T-shirt she wore to work. And added the finishing touch, the sports socks and tennis shoes that were also standard attire for the youngest women’s athletic director Montford University had ever had. Classes didn’t start for another week—the fifteenth of January—but Randi, along with the rest of the Montford faculty, was due back the Monday before.

Not a minute too soon, as far as she was concerned.

Running her fingers through her short blond hair, she dashed for her Jeep. She had a meeting later that morning with her head basketball coach—recruitment possibilities to discuss—but Randi had something else to accomplish first. Something to knock off her list—she hoped.

The Shelter Valley Veterinary Clinic was just around the corner from downtown, not even a block from Main Street. The newish-looking structure was familiar to Randi, but only from a drive-by position. She’d never had reason to visit it before.

And hoped never to have reason to visit it again.

What could Will have been thinking, giving her this assignment? He had to know she’d try to unload it.

Which might very well have been his plan. Cancel the whole thing. Who ever heard of a university having a pet-therapy club, anyway?

Parking the Jeep, Randi hopped out and latched the door behind her. She could just picture it, a bunch of dogs in private offices, sitting in armchairs in front of couches, administering therapy to emotionally disturbed people.

Shaking her head, she entered the building. Cassie Tate had opened the clinic almost three years before, but from what Randi had heard, she wasn’t in town all that much now that she was teaching the rest of the country about pet therapy. Randi had gone to school with Cassie, and while they hadn’t been particularly close—Cassie had only had eyes, and time, for Sam Montford, and Randi had already been in training for her stint with the Ladies Professional Golf Association—Randi had always respected Cassie.

“Can I help you?” a young college student asked from her position behind the reception counter.

“Sure,” Randi said, glancing around the waiting room as she approached. One woman with a cat. In a carrier. “Is Dr. Foster around?”

“Zack?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The girl looked down at the book in front of her and then over the counter to notice Randi’s lack of a pet.

“No,” she said. She’d been hoping to just pop in and make this short and sweet. Emphasis on short.

“Can I tell him who’s here?”

“Randi Parsons. I’m from the university, and I need to speak with him about the pet-therapy club.”

The girl nodded and pushed through a swinging door behind her.

Okay, Randi understood the part about extracurricular activities on campus and even the fact that she had to be an adviser. She’d managed to avoid it so far, although most of the Montford faculty served eventually. It kept the teachers and students unified, working toward common goals. Many of the activities were community-oriented, which helped solidify the values of which Montford was so proud. She was for all of that. Would lobby for it, if necessary.

But pet therapy?

“You can go on back.” The receptionist had returned. “He’s in his office, third door on the right.”

“Thanks,” Randi said, rounding the counter with her fingers crossed. Five minutes should make all the difference.

She’d seen Dr. Zack Foster from a distance. In a town the size of Shelter Valley, it was pretty much impossible not to at least catch a glimpse of each of the two thousand or so permanent residents at some time or other. Even if said resident had been in town for less than a year. There was only one major grocery store, two gas stations, one real restaurant. Everyone was seen eventually.

Besides, Zack Foster was a basketball fan. She’d noticed him at one of the final women’s games when Montford had been on its way to the championship.

Which they’d won. Randi still felt a little glow of pride when she thought about it.

Seeing him from a distance was nothing like being in the same room with him. Up close he was huge. Not an ounce overweight, just muscular. Solid.

“Dr. Foster?”

“Please, call me Zack.” He rose and offered her his hand.

Randi swallowed. “I’m Randi Parsons.” Her voice almost cracked.

What the hell was the matter with her?

“Good to meet you,” he said, looking at her oddly. “I followed Montford’s women’s basketball last season. Very impressive.”

“Thanks.”

She’d been around big men all her life. Had four of them for older brothers, and ever since she’d been able to walk she’d been able to take on all four of them with one hand tied behind her back. Both hands, if it came to that.

He didn’t sit back down. Didn’t offer her a seat, either, not that she planned to stay long. At least she didn’t think she planned to. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. And they were boring holes in her.

“Uh, do I, uh, have jelly smeared on my mouth?” she asked, wiping her lips even though she hadn’t had jelly in years. Or breakfast that morning, for that matter.

“No, of course not.” His gaze dropped. “Sorry about that. Please, have a seat.”

Randi sat. She had the strangest feeling that she’d do just about anything the man asked of her right then. A feeling she’d never had before in her life. One she hoped never to have again.

“I, uh, just wanted to speak with you a moment about Montford’s pet-therapy club. I was told you’re administering it from the professional side.”

“I am.” He nodded, one thumb busy thumping a folder on top of his desk.

The man was having the most discomforting effect on Randi. She had no idea what to do with it. Her only consolation was that he seemed to be just as uncomfortable as she was.

Good. That should make it even easier to accomplish her task.

“I’ve been assigned to be the club’s faculty adviser.”

“What happened to Dr. Randolph?”

“He retired.”

“Oh.”

The vet’s blue eyes were studying her again, as though he saw something he didn’t know what to do with, either.

She’d help him out. Help them both out.

“The thing is, I know Cassie’s made quite a name for herself with her pet therapy, helping emotionally disturbed people and all, but this club, it can’t have any real impact. The kids running it aren’t trained like Cassie is. Nor am I. We don’t have the psychology background.”

“There are many kinds of pet therapy—”

“I’m just thinking that, with Cassie being out of town so much and you having to carry an extra load, we’d be remiss not to understand your commitments and cancel the club, at least for this semester. Let you off the hook, so to speak.”

“I don’t want to be let off the hook, but thank you for your consideration.” If she wasn’t mistaken, his words held just a bit of mockery. As though he knew she hadn’t really been thinking of him at all.

Or, at least, only as an afterthought.

Randi wanted out of this assignment. More than ever, now that she was actually sitting here with Zack Foster. His glance was so powerful, something about him so compelling, her stomach was almost quivering.

Her stomach never quivered.

“What good are a bunch of untutored college kids going to be?” she asked, determined to do what she’d come here to do and get the hell out of there. “I don’t imagine they can learn enough about therapy in the five short meetings allotted to us.”

“They don’t need any training at all,” Zack said with great confidence. “And the meetings aren’t all that short. We take four or five trips a semester into Phoenix to nursing homes there. I provide the dogs, you provide the dogs’ partners, whose only job it is to take the dogs into different rooms and let them do their stuff.”

He lost Randi with the remark about meetings that weren’t short. She had a very full schedule this semester. She had a new cross-country coach to stay on top of and a budget that wasn’t going to stretch all the way. Plus, the athletic conference of which Montford was a part was completely reworking its policies this spring. And in her spare time, her focus had to be on recruiting for the basketball team so they weren’t a one-season wonder. She needed the gate money or she’d have to consider cutting the women’s gymnastics program.

Men’s gymnastics had already been cut to give women’s athletics a more equitable financial share.

“This is all very altruistic,” she said, knowing she should be stating her case more strongly—even while her tongue failed to do so. “But do you really think it’s worth the effort to take a bunch of kids into Phoenix when your time—and mine—is at such a premium?” She didn’t want to waste four or five afternoons on something as frivolous as pet therapy, but neither did she want to bring a frown to that face. She didn’t want to earn Zack Foster’s disregard.

Which made no sense at all. She hadn’t cowered before a man’s displeasure her entire life. A woman in athletics couldn’t afford to let men intimidate her. She’d never get anywhere. Randi lived in a man’s world and could hold her own with the best of them.

“I take it you aren’t thrilled with this appointment,” Zack drawled, a half smile on his face.

“Let’s just say I don’t have time to waste,” she answered curtly. It was the best comeback she could manage.

And it wasn’t all that good.