Judith McNaught (43 page)

us later. Anyway, the harm is done and there's no point dwelling on what I can't fix. When the cops ask you about that episode, just tell them exactly what happened. They'll think you were heroic. And you were." Putting his hands on her arms for emphasis, he said, "Listen closely to me and then I want to drop

the subject once and for all: When the police are questioning you about our relationship here, if you do

happen to slip in some way that reveals we were intimate, I want you to promise me something."

"What?" Julie said, desperate now to end the discussion before their mood was beyond salvaging.

"I want you to promise me that you'll tell them I raped you."

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She gaped at him, open-mouthed.

"I've already been convicted of murder," he emphasized, "believe me, my reputation isn't going to be

besmirched one bit by the added charge of rape. But your reputation can be saved by it, and that's all that matters. You understand, don't you?" he said studying the extremely odd look she was giving him.

Her voice was soft and very, very sweet. "Yes, Zack," she said with uncharacteristic meekness. "I understand. I understand that you are
out of … your

…
mind!"
Her hands hit him squarely on the shoulders, catching him by surprise and sending him flying backward, landing spread-eagle in a five-foot snowdrift.

"What the hell was that for!?" he demanded, as he struggled to get out of the deep hole he'd made in the drift.

"That," she told him smiling her most angelic smile, her hands on her hips, her legs braced slightly apart,

"was for daring to suggest that I would even
consider
telling anyone that you raped me!"

Zack got to his feet and concentrated on brushing snow off his hair and jacket and legs, but he wasn't immune to the sudden exhilaration that came from being outdoors beneath a bright blue sky, surrounded by a winter wonderland of snow-covered pine trees and in the company of a young woman who had suddenly turned playful.

Grinning, he finished brushing himself off, then advanced on her slowly and purposefully. "That was extremely childish," he chided.

She watched him, backing away, step for step.

"Don't try it," she said, choking on a laugh, "I'm warning

you—"

Zack lunged, she twisted suddenly, tangling her leg around the back of his knee, jerking hard and up, and the next thing he knew, he was toppling backward in slow motion again, flapping his arms like a

wounded goose, trying to regain his balance. He landed flat on his back with an audible thud at her feet

while her laughter pealed like bells through the pines.

"That," Julie informed him, enjoying herself hugely,

"was partial payment for smashing snow in my face at

that rest stop." She stood over him, waiting for him to get up, but he continued to lie there, his face strangely thoughtful, his eyes focused on the bright blue sky above her head. "Aren—aren't you going to get up?" she chortled after a minute.

He turned his head toward her. "What's the point?"

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" she said cautiously.

"My pride is in tatters, Julie."

A sudden memory of all his tough-guy movies flashed through her mind, and she suddenly understood

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why he was embarrassed. She could tell he wasn't faking it either by the way he was lying there and the strained tone in his voice. Evidently a double who looked like him had done all his fighting for him on film,

she realized, overcome with contrition for adding to his burdens with such petty revenge. "That was stupid of me. Please get up."

He squinted against the sun and said quietly, "Are you going to knock me down again?"

"No, I promise I won't. You're absolutely right, I was being childish." She reached out a hand to help him, bracing herself on the slim off chance that this was a trick and he was going to try to jerk her off her feet, but he took her assistance gratefully.

"I'm too old for this," he complained, rubbing the back of his knee and brushing off snow.

"Look at that—" Julie said, anxious to make him forget his embarrassment, pointing to the snowman she'd started yesterday. Giving him a sunny smile, she explained, "The wind made a crater over there and

the snow isn't nearly as deep. How would you feel about helping me rebuild a snowman?"

"That's fine," he said and to her delighted shock, he reached for her hand and held it—two lovers walking through the snow, holding hands. "What was that you did to me back there?" he asked admiringly. "Was it some sort of karate move, or was it judo? I always mix up the two."

"Judo," she said uneasily.

"Why in hell didn't you pull that on me at that rest stop instead of running?"

She gave him an embarrassed look. "My brother Ted gives self-defense classes, but I thought the idea was silly in a place like Keaton and I refused to go.

So he taught that particular move to me at home a long time ago. When you were chasing me that day, I panicked and ran. I never even remembered I knew how to do that. Today, I planned to do it beforehand, which is why I was able to pull it off so easi—" she stopped in midword, trying desperately, if belatedly, to spare his pride.

They'd reached the snowman and he let go of her hand, looking down at her with an admiring smile.

"Do

you know any other fancy moves like that?"

Julie knew several more. "No, actually, I don't."

Still smiling down at her, he said very softly and very gently, "Then please permit me teach you another

one—" He moved so swiftly that Julie let out a startled screech at the same time she left the ground, propelled backward into a pile of snow with exactly the right of amount of controlled momentum to land her, sitting up, legs sprawled straight out in front of her, unhurt.

She gaped at him, laughing helplessly at her ignominious flight through the air, then she got to her feet.

"You are really awful," she chided, pretending to concentrate on brushing the snow off while she tried to

think how to get even. She turned away from him for a second, then she turned back and gave him an innocent smile as she walked toward him.

"Had enough?" he countered, grinning, his hands loosely at his sides.

"Yep, you win. I give up."

This time, however, Zack saw the sparkle in those bewitching blue eyes. "Liar," he laughed when she
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began slowly circling him, looking for a place to aim her body. He turned with her, both of them laughing now—Zack determined not to give her an opening when she charged, Julie knowing exactly how she intended to force him to give her one.

"Time out," she laughed, stopping and pretending to fiddle with the zipper she'd pulled down herself a minute ago. "No wonder I'm freezing. This zipper keeps sliding down."

"Here," Zack said with swift courtesy, exactly as Julie had hoped. "Let me try." He pulled off his right glove and looked down at the zipper. The moment his fingers touched the tab, Julie twisted sharply, aimed her shoulder at his chest with all her might and plowed at him like a football halfback. He moved

aside, and Julie's shoulder rammed thin air with so much might that she went plowing right past him, head

down. Propelled by her own force, she charged straight into the snow bank behind him, burying her head

in it all the way up to her shoulders.

Trying to breathe, laugh, and dig the snow off her face at the same time, she backed out of the snow bank, turned around, and leaned against it, while his laughing voice remarked, "I've never seen anyone turn their own head into a snow drill before.

Interesting demonstration. Do you think we could sell the

idea to a manufacturer?"

That did it. With a shriek of laughter, Julie slid down, collapsing at his feet, convulsed with laughter.

Trying to catch her breath, she looked up at his grinning face. He was looming over her, his hands on his

hips, a picture of vastly amused male superiority.

"When you're ready to get down to serious snowman business," he smugly informed her with his chin thrust in the air as he walked off, "you—"

Julie stuck out her foot. He tripped, twisted, and went down like a felled tree. Howling with laughter, she

rolled hastily aside, scrambled to her feet, and backed out of his reach. "Pride cometh before a fall

—"

she reminded him, giggling, backing further away as he got up.

He was smiling, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he slowly, purposefully advanced on her.

"That does it!" he said softly. "That does it."

"Don't—don't do anything you'll regret—" she chortled helplessly, holding her hand out as if to fend him

off as she backed away faster. He increased his pace dramatically. "Now, Zack—" she laughed shakily.

"Don't you dare!" she cried, whirling to bolt for the woods as he lunged. He brought her down with a tackle around her waist before she took the first step, shoving her into the snow beneath his body, then rolling her over onto her back, straddling her at the waist. Grinning at her futile struggles, he pinned her wrists above her head with one hand. "Brat," he said cheerfully and softly, while Julie laughed harder and squirmed and struggled to catch her breath. "Give up?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" she managed brokenly.

"Say 'Uncle'."

"Uncle!" she chortled. "Uncle!"

"Now close your eyes and give me a kiss."

Her shoulders shaking with mirth, she closed her eyes and deliberately gave him a childish pucker.

Cold,

wet snow kissed her back—a face full of it. He smashed it all over her cheeks while she sputtered and

laughed harder, then he got up. "Now," he said, grinning like a satisfied sultan as he held a hand out to

help her up, "you're
sure
you've had enough?"

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"Enough," Julie laughed, belatedly noticing how boyishly happy and relaxed he looked after what had been nothing more meaningful than frolicking in the snow. The last traces of tension were gone from his handsome face, and she felt a mixture of tenderness and amazement that something as ordinary as a snow fight evidently gave him so much pleasure. Of course, it didn't snow in Los Angeles, so maybe this was

new to him. Either way, she realized one thing: He'd been exactly right when he said to concentrate only on enjoying the present and creating memories for the future. It was clearly what he needed.

Zack stepped through the deep snow holding her arm for support, his mind on the project ahead of him.

"I assume we can get down to serious snowman business," he announced, standing in front of the formless lump of snow that had been her original snowman and studying it with his hands on his waist and

his back to her, "now that you understand the supreme folly of provoking someone so much larger, stronger, and wiser than yourself. Since I've finally gotten your proper respect, I have some very specific ideas about this proj —"

A huge snowball hit him disrespectfully on the back of his head.

* * *

to the business of completing a snowman that, when finished, resembled no other snowman in the annals of recorded history.

Seated together on the sofa, with their legs stretched out, their feet propped side by side on the coffee table and a cream knitted afghan stretched over them, Julie gazed out the glass wall across the room.

She

was deliciously exhausted from their day outdoors, a hearty meal, and Zack's thorough lovemaking on the sofa. Even now, when the lovemaking was long over and he was lost in thought, gazing into the fireplace, she noticed he kept his arm around her, holding her close to his side, her head on his shoulder,

as if he very much enjoyed having her close and touching her. She liked that, but at the moment her mind

was on his "snowman" just beyond the glass wall.

With the living room lights dimmed to a mellow glow

and the fire in the fireplace reduced to orange cinders, she could just make out the looming, shadowy

form of it. He was incredibly creative and imaginative, she thought with a smile, which shouldn't have

been surprising, given his film career. But even so, a snowman ought to
look
like a snowman, not a leering mutant dinosaur.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his lips brushing a soft kiss on the top of her hair.

She tipped her chin up to see his face and grinned.

"Your snowman. Didn't anyone ever tell you a snowman is supposed to be jolly?"

"That," he corrected, looking proud and boyish as he studied it through the window, "is a snow
monster."

"It looks like something Stephen King would dream up. What kind of depraved childhood did you have,
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anyway?" she teased.

"Depraved," Zack confirmed, smiling and tightening his arm around her. He could not seem to get enough of her, in bed or out of it, and that was an unprecedented experience for him. She fit the curve of

his arm as if she were made for him; in bed, she was a temptress, an angel, and a courtesan. She could drive him to unparalleled heights of passion with a sound, a look, a touch. Out of bed, she was funny, fascinating, stubborn, witty, and intelligent. She could anger him with a word and then disarm him with a

smile. She was artlessly sophisticated, devoid of pretension, and filled with so much life and love that she

mesmerized him at times, like when she talked about her students. He had kidnapped her, and in return, she had saved his life. He was supposed to be the wily, hardened convict, and yet she had been clever enough and brave enough to escape right out from under his nose. Then she had turned around and willingly surrendered her virginity to him with a poignant sweetness that made him ache whenever he thought about it. He was humbled in the face of her courage, gentleness, and generosity.