Page 29 of The Last Love Song
“Come inside,” she whispered against his lips, tugging him forward.
He stopped. Stared down at her, his breathing hard and uneven.
Which mirrored how she felt, too. Until she realized what she’d just said.
“I mean.” Her temperature climbed a few more degrees. She bit her lip. “Er. The house. I meant, come inside the house.”
She nodded at the open door and Zach followed the motion. Then smiled for the first time since they’d left the riverside.
“Yeah. I knew what you meant.” His smile broadened. “And that’s tempting on every level.” He eased his hands from her waist to trail up her arms. To rest on her shoulders underneath the blanket of her hair. “You don’t know how much.”
Yes, well. That was the point. She wanted to see for herself how tempted he might be once she got him behind a closeddoor. Her skin felt too tight, as if she just might crawl out of it. Her breasts ached for his touch after only a few moments being pressed up against him. She’d forgotten how needy sexual hunger could make her feel.
Oh, wait. She’d never experienced this sensation before. No wonder she practically hyperventilated all over the man.
“That doesn’t sound like a yes to me.” She forced herself to step back, away from the temptation of his hands. His lips.
“We’ll talk over dinner.” He stroked a thumb down her cheek. “If you still feel the same way then you’ll hear the yes loud and clear.”
Her cheek tingled from his scant caress, but she couldn’t deny it. She’d been rejected. She backed up another step, out of his reach, so that she stood on the threshold of the open doorway.
“See you then.” She didn’t wait for his goodbye.
Clutching her pride tight, she forced a smile and closed the door.
When she heard a soft rap a few minutes later, she wondered if Zach had changed his mind. She cursed herself for how fast that thought made her hormones cook all over again. Hoping to get control over herself, she took her time opening the door. She breathed deeply.
Only to find Megan on her front porch.
“Hi!” She checked her watch as she opened the door wider. “Come on in. I wasn’t expecting you until after school.”
“I didn’t go today.” Dressed in dark sweats and a pink sweatshirt, she had the hoodie pulled up over her head. “I got behind on some schoolwork so I faked a cough, but I’m not sick. I promise. Or I wouldn’t have come over.”
Megan set her guitar case on the floor by an antique umbrella stand.
Heather noted the girl’s puffy eyes. “Everyone needs an occasional personal day,” she said carefully.
Shuffling aside her own frustrated feelings, Heather pulled herself together and morphed into professional mode.
Something must be wrong in Megan’s life. Heather would bet her savings on it. But drawing out a troubled teen was a task rife with potential land mines. She remembered all too well how she’d tried to talk to her sister Amy before she’d left Heartache for good. All she’d done was push her further away.
“Exactly.” Megan looked around Heather’s house. “You’re all packed up for your trip?”
“Pretty much.” She’d forgotten that the place would have looked different since the last time her student had visited. “I used the trip as an excuse to clean out old things I didn’t need and get organized.”
“You must be so excited to get out of this town.” Megan ran a finger along the edge of a postcard on Heather’s bulletin board. It was from Sylvia, and one of the few homey details remaining on the walls.
“It will be fun to test my skills against other performers.” She watched as Megan moved her attention from the Nashville postcard to one from Memphis. Graceland.
Megan nodded. “Plus, you get to be anonymous in a big city. No one knows you. No one tracks your every move.” She spun around to face her. “I mean, it can get sort of claustrophobic in a small town.”
“Definitely.” Heather frowned. Was Megan’s overprotective father riding her too hard about grades or college plans? Who else would track her every move? “But I don’t mind Heartache most days. My younger sister hated it. She hasn’t been back since she quit high school.”
“She quit school?” Megan’s widened.
Crap. Was that the wrong direction to take this conversation? She wondered what mild-mannered Professor Bryer’s reaction would be if he found out Megan’s music teacher was filling her head with stories about discontented teenagers who emancipated themselves at seventeen and never looked back.
“There were a lot of factors at work there, but yes. She never liked it here.” Heather had been thinking about Amy a lot recently. During the past two years, her sister’s absence had felt like more than simply a chance to find herself.
