“Oh, God, it’s a mess,” she said distractedly, and immediately hid a crocheting bag behind the couch, started to gather up magazines.
“It’s not a mess. It’s just like you,” he said gently.
“I’m a sucker for clutter,” she agreed with a laugh, and then stood with her hands on her hips, wearing an expression he knew well. “This time, you take the bed and I’ll take the couch, and I refuse to hear any arguments about it. You wouldn’t fit on my couch if we sawed you off at the knees.”
“True.” His tone was wry.
“Well…” For some ridiculous reason, she suddenly felt uncertain. This was her home, where she’d always had control of her life. If Rafe would just stop looking at her with that soft smile…“I’d better show you where everything is,” she said briskly.
She showed him everything in her coral kitchen from soup bowls to peanut butter, then revealed the secrets of her washing machine, then toured the bath and spare room where the kids would sleep. Everything went fine until they reached her bedroom, where he was going to sleep.
She slipped inside while he stayed rooted in the doorway, and that quiet smile of his blossomed into a full-fledged grin. Darn it, she’d had no time to prepare for company, and certainly not in here. With her hand behind her at the dresser, she rapidly shoved earrings, a nightgown and bra into the drawer. “Now, I know it looks a little crowded, but the closet in the spare room is less crowded, and I’ll take some of my stuff out of the drawers…”
He simply refused to pay attention. His gaze was dawdling over the dozen half-filled vials of perfume-she loved scent-the collection of framed butterflies on the wall, the pink satin spread with its soft fringe, the trinkets spilling out of her jewelry box.
“Know something, Zoe?” he murmured.
“What?”
His blue eyes alit on her the way a bee settles on nectar. “You’re pure female right down to the smallest cell in your body.”
Frustration coiled in Zoe’s stomach. She was going to feel safe, sound and immune from that man’s eyes if it killed her.
Chapter Seven
“Go on, you big ox. Swim! Get out of here. Scram. We’re your enemies, remember?” Zoe’s Institute for Orca Research had three mammoth saltwater holding tanks. At the moment the underwater gates were open on one of them. Tattered Lady and her calf were free to go, and the Pacific and freedom were waiting for them.
Five weeks before, Zoe had been a member of the institute crew that had brought in the wounded humpback. The name Tattered Lady had been a natural. The dorsal fin had been so chewed up that the whale had been weak from loss of blood and unable to care for her young one. During Zoe’s absence, Tattered Lady had been successfully nursed back to health, but the honor of freeing her had been delayed until Zoe’s return…only the lady was not all that excited about reentering a cold, cruel world.
Zoe had spent more than half of her first day back at work underwater in a wet suit. Dressed in street clothes now, she was weary and freezing under a typical Puget Sound mist. She crossed her ankles and all available fingers as the whale once more breached and dived in a graceful arc toward the gate. Just as smoothly, she turned and headed back inland.
“That’s freedom out there, you big jerk,” Zoe hissed with frustration. “Where’s your pride? You want to be on welfare the rest of your life? You’re as healthy as a horse, you big lummox. Go get your own plankton.”
“You tell her, Zoe.” Sandy, next to Zoe, was chuckling at Zoe’s scoldings. With the ink on her bachelor of science diploma barely dry, Sandy was the youngest member of the oceanographic team. A brunette with a shy smile, she’d found a mentor in Zoe from her first day on the job. “Good to have you back,” she said affectionately.
Zipping up her jacket, Zoe grinned. “Good to be back. I hear you did a terrific job while I was gone. No more horrendous teasing about being our institute rookie?”
Sandy shrugged her slight shoulders. “I expected that when I started here.” She motioned toward the water. “Want me to leave the gate open overnight?”
“No. I only made that mistake once, about two years ago, and ended up with two sharks, a ray and a school of jellyfish prepared to set up house here permanently. Tomorrow we’ll bait the water outside the gate or, if worse comes to worst, lead the calf out and hope the mother follows.” Zoe sighed, giving one more possessive glance at her humpback whale before grabbing her shoulder bag. “She’s healed well. I had my doubts she could make it when we brought her in five weeks ago.”
“Ralph says you bully them into surviving.”
Zoe sent her a wry glance in shared understanding of their boss’s character. “Ralph’s always free with compliments, but he keeps us in the water and himself dry and warm in the lab.”
“You mind if I stick close tomorrow? I’d like to help you on the echolocation project.”
“Sure.” Minutes later, Zoe was inside her car and headed toward home. It was barely five, yet the mist was slowly turning into a downpour that Zoe knew would mean a full-fledged fog by morning. A wildlife sanctuary bordered the institute’s property. Spring was busting out on both sides of the coastal road, and any other time she would have slowed to admire the burst of violet star thistles clustered so spectacularly on her left.
Tonight she hardly noticed nature’s wonders; her foot was steady on the gas pedal. She was busy feeling relief that her first day back at work had been everything she’d hoped-absorbing, challenging, satisfying.
You didn’t even miss them, she told herself as she passed another car that seemed to be dawdling. She was equally certain that the three males in her life had survived beautifully without her-probably a thousand times better than if she’d been there. The boys had Rafe, they didn’t need her, and heck, she’d felt as though she were being let out of prison when she’d gone to work this morning. Freedom. Lunch when she wanted it. Work she could concentrate on. Driving with both hands on the wheel instead of one adjusting a seat belt that a four-year-old had wriggled out of. Uninterrupted conversations between adults, spoken in adult language to people who’d never heard of X-Men. What more could a woman ask for?
Frustrated at a red light, she took a thorough look in four directions, discovered no other cars and guiltily ran the light. Three blocks later she jammed on the brake in her driveway, tugged her purse strap over her shoulder and hurled herself out of the car. Noting that Jay was offering a friendly wave from his second-floor apartment, she waved back. She knew she should stop to thank the older man for taking care of her place while she was gone, and she would…soon, but not now.
Belatedly aware that she was rushing hell-bent for leather for no reason at all, she slowed her pace to a sedate gallop. It’s that man’s fault. Before he came into your life, you were a sane, competent, rational, sensible…
…surprised woman, she qualified fleetingly as she opened the front door. At first glance, she wondered who was moving. Her four Tiffany-style lamps were grouped on top of the bookcase, along with her pewter candlesnuffers, her crocheting bag and every ornament she’d ever collected-some of which she hadn’t seen in years. Pillowcases were draped over her cherrywood tables like giant doilies. Her afghan was meticulously folded over a hanger in the front hall closet. The apartment hadn’t looked so neat since the last tenant had lived there. No noise, no chaos…no Rafe, no children…