Out Of The Blue (The Wrong Bed #12)(5)

"Sounds good."

She hoped he still felt that way in a few moments, because no matter whose brother he was, there wasn't a room to be had.

Which brought her to her plan. Her crazy plan.

Her how-to-get-un-virginal plan.





* * *





Chapter 2


? ^ ?

So bone-weary he could hardly climb the stairs, Zach shouldered his duffel bag and headed toward the room Hannah had just given him.

Hannah.

It'd been ten years since he'd set sight on her, a very long time given she'd been fourteen when he'd left. Fourteen and gangly and awkward, terribly self-conscious in a way that to his own nineteen years had seemed … well, very young.

Still, whenever he'd thought of Avila, a small part of him had always wondered if she'd kept that sweet smile, if she still had freckles dancing across her nose, if she'd ever grown into her long, skinny legs.

If he wasn't so tired, he might have acknowledged that he now had the answers to those burning questions.

Yes, she still had that sweet, contagious smile, the one that made her green eyes shine like jade.

Yes, she still had a scattering of freckles dancing across her nose.

And most definitely yes, she'd grown into those long, long legs—legs that now could be registered as a lethal weapon, for she'd nearly stopped him in his tracks when he'd stumbled across her in the kitchen.

If he hadn't been about to fall asleep on his feet, he might have been able to fully appreciate those unexpected, and delightful, changes.

He might have even enjoyed the décor of the lodge, knowing his sister and her friends were far more talented than he could have imagined. He might have wondered who Hannah had kicked out of the clearly full lodge in order to give him a place to crash.

But his mind had gone fuzzy, and amazing as it seemed for a man who hadn't been with a woman for far too long, he couldn't even think about it.

He needed sleep.

Beyond that, he probably needed some good food, too, and some serious brain rest, but if he didn't take care of the sleep first, he was going to fall down on the spot.

Again, his job's fault. Portraying someone else for an entire year on the undercover sting, then living on the edge for that long, always on guard and never being able to relax, was incredibly hard on the body.

Oh yes, and being shot.

That hadn't helped, either.

He'd assumed he'd fully recuperate, but suddenly he had his doubts, and it scared him.

His job was his life. He hadn't set out for it to be so, but he'd always wanted to be the best, and to do that, sacrifices had been made. His personal life, for one. He'd been so busy being a cop, being a good cop, he'd lost a part of himself. Strange how he'd been perfectly happy that way, until he couldn't do his job.

Now, that life seemed … empty. No, that wasn't right.

Maybe it was just exhaustion.

On the second-floor landing he came to a small sitting area. There was a fireplace, and several couches were nicely arranged for easy gathering.

Seated there was an older couple sharing a pot of tea. Mr. and Mrs. Schwartz, they were all too happy to tell him, when he made the mistake of pausing one second too long and they introduced themselves.

Mr. Schwartz gave him a sly smile. "You're here to pick up babes, I bet. Saw a bunch on the beach today."

Mrs. Schwartz turned on him. "You said you didn't notice!"

"Only helping out the young man, dear."

"Did he ask you for help? No!" Mrs. Schwartz took her husband's cup of tea right out of his hands and placed it on the tray in front of them. "Always butting in, you are. I'm sure this nice young man doesn't need any help finding a woman to keep his bed warm at night, especially from you. Isn't that right?"

She looked at Zach questioningly, and under different circumstances, such as when he wasn't literally ready to fall on his face, he might have laughed. "I'm just here to rest," he said, earning a smirk from the older man.

"Well, just 'rest' on the east end," Mr. Schwartz suggested. "That beach is a hot spot. A regular babe magnet."

Mrs. Schwartz smacked her husband.

"Uh … thanks." Zach backed away just in time to see the older man lay the charm on his wife, who cackled her surrender and kissed him.

Shaking his head at the mysteries of a relationship that old, yet still together no matter how rocky, Zach kept walking. His room was at the very far end, down a hallway and away from any activity.

A Good Thing.

He let himself in. Without bothering to turn on the lights, he dropped his bag to the floor and kicked off his shoes. Hannah had told him there was one bedroom, a bathroom and a small sitting room. All he needed at the moment was the bed, so that's where he headed.

The bedroom windows were open to the night air and moon. He'd showered in his condo in Los Angeles before he'd started the drive, so he simply pulled off his shirt, kicked off his jeans, sighed deeply, and slid under the covers.

Before his head settled on the pillow—which held an oddly arousing scent of some sort of flower he couldn't quite place—he was fast and deeply asleep.

*

Hannah couldn't concentrate on work, and was it any wonder? Zach was here. Here.

It had to be Fate.