"I'll come up with a backup plan, just in case. But don't worry. No one will find me. Father keeps his door shut at all times. No one can see who's in the office. And it's pretty isolated. I'll have enough time to access his computer files. If there's any evidence there, I'm going to find it. I've exhausted every other avenue. And I have a gut feeling we need to act fast."
"Yeah." Zach sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I have the same feeling."
"Speaking of acting fast, . ." Abruptly, Victoria shoved back her chair and rose, her tension so acute, Zach could feel it. "That brings me to the other thing I'm agonizing over—us." She gripped the edge of the table. "I've done a lot of thinking today. In fact, that's all I did, whenever I got a break from being indoctrinated in the superior ways of Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder. I'm ready for that talk of ours—as ready as I'll ever be."
She drew a slow breath, clearly steeling herself. "I was going to make some coffee and take it into the living room but, frankly, I'm afraid I'll lose my nerve by the time it's finished brewing. Besides, right now I need wine more than you need coffee. Is that okay?"
Soberly, Zach nodded, coming to his feet. He knew this was the moment of truth, although he didn't let that awareness show. This was Victoria's time to talk, to voice her fears and reservations.
After which, he'd have his say.
But one thing was for sure. He had no intention of letting things end up any way but one.
Saying nothing, Zach picked up the two half-filled glasses and followed Victoria into the living room.
She took her glass from him, wandered over to the window, and stared out.
"I'm not sure where to begin," she murmured, keeping her back to him. "I may be reluctant, but I'm also realistic. I know what happened in that bed was a lot more than a weekend of incredible sex. And, yes, I'm scared to death. You call it cowardice. I call it self-protection. It doesn't matter. The end result is the same—you and I are both paying the price." She paused, taking a sip of wine. "You keep telling me that some things don't change. Well, I agree— you're right. But what if those things include us? What if we are who we are and nothing can change that?" She swallowed hard. "Because if that's true, I don't think we have much to talk about, feelings or not."
"We have everything to talk about." Zach came up behind her, forcing himself not to touch her, although he was close enough so his breath ruffled her hair. "And the answer is, some things do change. People change, thanks to time and experience. Or, maybe 'change' is the wrong word. They grow, get more insightful, more aware. They see things differently than they used to. More clearly. Their priorities shift. And suddenly everything just clicks. They realize exactly what they need to make them whole. Even if they were blind enough to lose sight of it the first time."
Victoria's fingers trembled on the stem of her glass. "Our past shapes who we are."
"But it doesn't dictate what we do. Not if we're smart enough to intervene. And one thing we both are, is smart. Too smart not to have learned from the last four years. Too smart not to see how rare and precious what we have together is." He couldn't help himself—his palms curved around her shoulders, slid down her arms and back up again, shimmying over the soft wool of her blazer. "Victoria, tell me to stay in New York," he commanded huskily. "Tell me not to go back to Europe. Say you're ready to build a life with me—the kind of life we both stupidly threw away before."
He drew her back against him, took the glass out of her unresisting hand, and placed it on an end table. "Lower those walls for me—just for me." He bent, pressed his lips to the pulse at her neck and felt the hard shudder that ran through her. "Meet me halfway. I won't hurt you again. Trust me. And trust me when I say I'll never try to change you or destroy the role you play in the lives of those you love."
"I can't sever ties and spend my life chasing down—"
"You won't. I won't," Zach interrupted, his breath warm against her ear. "I can't swear the nightmares won't ever surface. Now and then they still jar me out of sleep. But I'm finished chasing ghosts. Because the only thing worse than the nightmares is not having you next to me when I wake up." His grip tightened. "Yes, I came back here to silence some demons. I'm doing that by helping the FBI crack open the Hope Institute. But when I said I came back to find closure, I wasn't only talking about my father. I was talking about us."
He turned her around, tugged back her head so their gazes locked and he could see the naked emotion in her eyes. "Finding us again—that's a miracle I thought I'd lost forever. But I haven't, have I?"
Victoria squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm not sure I can bear the intensity of these feelings again. They're overwhelming, consuming. When you left—"
"I'll never leave again." His thumbs caressed her cheeks. "I promise. All you have to do is ask me to stay."
"Zach—"
"Ask."
Her lashes lifted, and a low sob escaped her throat as the wall crumbled to dust. "Stay," she choked out. "Please. I need you. I don't want to, but I do—"
His mouth swooped down to cover hers, and he drank in her words with fierce, utter possession. "And I need you," he muttered, crushing her in his arms, dragging her against him. "You have no idea how much ..."
He was even more frantic than he'd been the other night. Right now, at this moment, the need to be inside her was wild, urgent, bordering on compulsion. He didn't even try to fight it. He just kept kissing her, taking her mouth in deep, hungry caresses, his tongue melding with hers as he unbuttoned her blazer, shoved it down her arms and to the floor. Her blouse followed, although Victoria hindered the process, her hands gliding under his turtleneck sweater, moving over the warm, hair-roughened wall of his chest. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his skin, lapping lightly at his nipples. Zach felt a red haze explode in his head, and he broke away, yanked the sweater over his head, and flung it down. Victoria continued kissing him, reaching for the button on his slacks and starting to sink down onto the rug.
"No." Zach caught her elbows, swept her up and into his arms. He felt a primal male need, one that far exceeded the physical. It was a need to have her in her most intimate domain, the place she'd lain awake nights and dreamed of him—dreams he hadn't been able to share.
He was about to share them now.
"I want you in your bed." Crossing the living room in long purposeful strides, he continued to devour her mouth, reaching around with one hand to unhook the front clasp of her bra. The lacy scrap of lingerie vanished somewhere between the living room and the hall. Then Zach's mouth was on her breasts, drawing her nipples into hard, wet points as he made his way down the hall.
Victoria's back arched on a cry, and she barely managed to point in the direction of her bedroom. "There."
She kicked off her shoes as he crossed the threshold, and she pulled him onto the bed with her as he worked down her skirt, stripping off her pantyhose and panties with it. She whispered his name, unzipping his pants, then slipping her fingers inside his briefs and caressing him until he lost control, nearly tearing the material as he yanked off the remainder of his clothes.
He pressed her back against the pillows, framing her face between his palms and kissing her deeply as his naked body blanketed hers. His thighs wedged between hers at the same instant that hers parted for him, anchoring his hips in the cradle between.
He had to be inside her.
Bracing his arms on either side of her head, he stared down at her, his gaze burning into hers. He raised up, found her damp passage, and thrust all the way inside.
Victoria's breath suspended as her flesh yielded to his. She enveloped him, her muscles softening and clamping down all at once. Her back arched, and she took him even deeper.
Zach groaned, buried his face in her neck, fighting for control. But it was a losing battle, and he knew it. Everything inside him was already tightening, converging, his emotions acting as fuel for his body's fire.
He couldn't wait.
He began thrusting, fast and dee
p, and Victoria moaned softly, her nails digging into his back as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, lifted herself into each thrust. Her body responded to his penetration with reckless haste, the pleasure coiling, spiraling upward. He could feel how close she was, her muscles clenching tighter and tighter around him, her head tossing on the pillow.
Close, but not close enough. He was unraveling—fast.
"Tory," he ground out, a hard shudder racking his body as he forced himself to go still. Gritting his teeth against the reflexive motion of his hips, he made a last-ditch effort to delay the all-too-fast culmination roaring down on them.
"Don't," Victoria commanded, her fists shoving at his back, trying to make him start moving again. She was frantic, her limbs trembling, her muscles quivering-on the brink. "Don't stop now ... Zach, I'm dying."
He gave up, gave in to the inevitable. Hooking his arms beneath her knees, he opened her fully, holding her that way as he drove into her—again and again—and catapulted them both over the edge.
She went taut... and shattered, climaxing in a rush, crying out his name. Her spasms gripped him, milked him— and that was all it took.
He lunged forward, pouring into her even as he did,' his entire body jolting under the impact, emptying his very soul into hers.
Then, peace. God, after four years. Peace.
He collapsed on top of her, too weak to form a coherent thought, much less to move. Never in all his life had he felt so drained and so full all at once.
The room was silent, the only audible sound the rasping of their breath.
Time passed, although how much, Zach hadn't a clue.
Then Victoria shifted ever so slightly beneath him, her lips brushing his sweat-drenched shoulder. "I love you," she whispered. "I've never stopped."
The spontaneity of her words meant almost as much as the declaration itself, and a hard knot of emotion tightened Zach's chest.
'Tory." His hands clenched in her hair. "God, I love you so much." His voice was raw, shattered, the sound of a man who'd found his life again. "More than you can ever imagine."
She shivered, a tiny quivering motion. "Is this really happening?"
"Definitely." Zach raised himself up and stared into her eyes—eyes that were filled with tears. He should wait, should make sure she was ready for this, that this was the right time. He should do a lot of things. But he didn't.
"Marry me." His thumbs captured her tears. "The minute Audrey's safe and the Hope Institute's exposed. We'll live here in New York, close to your family and your law firm. Or we'll buy a house in the suburbs, keep this apartment for the nights we work late. Whatever you want. Just say you'll be my wife."
Last time she'd panicked, backed away like a frightened rabbit.
Not this time. This time she didn't miss a beat.
"Yes," she stated simply. "Yes, I'll marry you. I want that very, very much. More than even I realized." She sniffed, gave him a watery smile. "A house, huh? That sounds wonderful. Does a real-life Jackson come with it? Because my little pal and I"—She waved her arm in the direction of the stuffed dog perched on her rocking chair—"have waited a long time for an actual canine friend."
Zach angled his head and gazed solemnly at the stuffed toy. "You kept him."
"I kept everything. Including the memories. I couldn't let go."
"Thank God for that." He kissed her. "A real Jackson it is. Several, if you want. We'll fill the house with puppies."
"And children?" she asked softly, watching his face.
A hard swallow. "You know how much I want that. I'm just trying not to rush you."
Victoria's brows arched, and she glanced pointedly down at their still-joined bodies. "You could have fooled me."
He followed her gaze, gave her a crooked grin. "For the record, I brought condoms with me tonight. They're in the living room, packed in my bag."
"Ah, a useful place." Victoria laughed, looping her arms around his neck. "I'm relieved to know you're so responsible."
Zach's smile faded, and his eyes narrowed intently on her face. "Are you sorry?"
"If I was, I wouldn't have let this happen. You know that as well as I do."
Yes, he did. And his body leaped at the implications. "Does that mean what I think it means?"
Victoria rubbed her leg against his. "That depends on what you think it means."
He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, his body rigid, imbedded deeply in hers. "Come here," he muttered thickly, drawing her mouth down to his. "I'll show you."
* * *
26
Tuesday, April 25
12:45 p.m.
Miss Hatterman was at lunch.
Walter Kensington was at his meeting.
And Victoria was on her way to his office.
Thumbing through an acquisition file, she walked casually in that direction, passing by the handful of secretaries and clerical staff who were working this part of the lunch hour. Leaning over their computer terminals, they were absorbed in their work, not paying the slightest attention to Victoria or where she was going.
She reached the private hallway down which her father's office and Miss Hatterman's cubicle were located. She went as far as the secretary's quiet alcove, then paused, glanced quickly behind her.
Nothing.
She scooted by, heading for the thick cherry door that heralded her father's inner sanctum. She'd seen him leave the office and head for the elevators almost an hour ago. But, just to be on the safe side, she knocked.
Silence.
In she went.
Leaning back against the shut door, she scanned the room, assuring herself it was empty.
It was.
She didn't turn on a light. It would just be something else to remember reversing on her way out. Besides, there was plenty of sunlight thanks to the huge expanse of windows.
She went straight to the desk and pressed the power button on the computer.
The machine whirred to life, making the customary sequence of humming sounds as it booted up.
Then an unfamiliar screen appeared with a picture of what looked like an IBM credit card. She began typing, but the keyboard was dead.
She frowned, staring at the screen. She'd been prepared to try out passwords in order to log on. She'd even made a mental list of possibilities. But the damned machine wasn't even letting her get that far.
What the hell did she do now?
She inspected the tower and keyboard, wishing she had a better technical understanding of hardware. To her, a computer was a computer. That was as far as her expertise ran.
Zach's ran a whole lot farther.
She whipped out her secure cell phone and punched up his number.
"Hello." He answered on the first ring. He sounded as tight as a drum. Worrying about her, no doubt. He knew what time it was, what she was doing.
"It's me."
"I guessed. Are you okay? I'm wearing out the rug."
"I'm fine. I'm in his office. But I can't get the computer to respond. It's as if the keyboard is locked or dead. I turned on the power. The machine booted up. Then it flashed a strange screen with a picture of some credit card. No request for a password, nothing. And I can't enter a thing."
Zach's wheels were turning. "He must be taking more extreme security measures. Not a surprise, if he's got something to hide. What brand of computer is he using?"
"It's an IBM with an LCD display."
"Okay." Zach paused again to think. "Take a look near the keyboard," he instructed. "Do you see a small, dark gray plastic device with an IBM logo? It's not big enough to fit a floppy disk. More like a credit card with electrical connections."
"Yes." Victoria's gaze riveted to a dark gray gadget with a rectangular slot that matched Zach's description. "I see it."
"Damn," he muttered. "That means the computer needs a Smart Card to gain access to the computer, and a personal identification code in order to get in. God knows where your father hides the card or what his PIN c
ode is. Get out of there, Victoria."
"No." Her gaze was already darting around the office. It wouldn't be in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Nor would it be in the furniture. It wouldn't be anywhere out of reach. Her father required control. He'd want his Smart Card at his fingertips. Somewhere personal, where only he would look.
Her eyes fell on the model cars.
She picked up the Rolls Royce first. It was the crowning jewel of his collection, Rolls's newly introduced Silver Seraph. He'd commissioned one for himself, crafted in the same deep blue as this model. Both had arrived at his home the same day—the original for his garage, the ready-to-be-assembled model for his desk.
He'd completed it that weekend and brought it here on Monday for display. It was an exquisite replica, flawlessly assembled, right down to the Spirit of Ecstasy mascot.
She ran her fingers over the hood, the roof, the doors, the trunk. Then she opened the passenger door and groped along the inside surfaces.
"Victoria?" Zach said in her ear. "What are you doing?"
"Looking for the Smart Card." She flipped the car upside down.
There, Velcroed to the underside, was a card with an IBM logo on the front and the name Walter Kensington written in ink on the back. "I've got it."
Zach released a reluctant breath. "Fine. Now slide it into the reader, connector side first."
She did. A few seconds passed. Then a small box appeared on the screen, prompting for a PIN code. "Yes," she hissed. "Thank you, Zach. You're wonderful."
"Don't hang up," he commanded.
"I can't break into a computer and talk to you at the same time."
"Put the phone on the desk. At least I can hear you that way. I need to know you're all right."
Victoria nodded. "Okay."
"And, Victoria? You only have three shots at getting in. If you don't guess the right PIN code by then, you'll be locked out until the administrator resets your father's password— and investigates the attempted break-in."
"Got it. Wish me luck."
She set down the cell phone and began trying her list of potential codes.