Chapter 9: PART ONE

When Bailey opened the door and saw Zack standing there, the outdoor light shining on him, the blue shirt he now wore the exact color of his eyes, for a moment, she simply could not breathe. Her pulse ratcheted up so much she was sure she could hear it pounding in her head. She was afraid she'd actually lick her lips.

Big mistake, Bailey. The last thing you need is to be alone with him.

"Okay if I come in?" he teased.

"Oh. Of course. Yes." Idiot.

She opened the door wider and stepped back to let him inside. He stopped right in front of her and dipped his head, inhaling.

"Still wearing the same scent of jasmine that always knocked me out."

"I can't believe you remember it after all this time."

He cupped her chin and tilted her face up so he could look directly into her eyes.

"There's not a damn thing I've forgotten about you, Bailey. Not one single thing." He dropped his hand and looked around the living room. "Quite a place, this resort. Must have cost them a bundle to build."

"I think they have investors. Lacey Walker, who owns the resort with her husband Clay, already owned some of the land. The house she had on it was destroyed by a hurricane, and they moved on from there."

"They've done a great job." He stood for a moment, watching her with that intense gaze of his.

Okay, now what, Bailey?

"Would you like a drink? Or something?"

"I'd rather have the 'or something,' but, sure, a drink would be great. Maybe some wine?"

"Of course."

Now, why had she done that? She needed to have a clear head for this. No, she needed to calm her nerves a lot better. There was a fully stocked wine cooler Bailey had discovered earlier. She pulled a bottle of white from its holder and found a corkscrew in one of the kitchen drawers.

"I'll do that." The deep voice reverberated through her, and Zack's warm hand nearly singed her skin as it closed over hers.

"Okay." She jerked her hand away, electrified by just that little bit of contact. And, of course, the memory of the kiss hopped out front and center.

She found wine glasses in the cupboards, and Zack filled each of them. Then he touched his to hers.

"To an interesting evening." He took a long swallow.

Bailey stared at him. "What does that mean exactly?"

"It means I hope we're going to learn a lot about what we've both been doing for the past-how long is it?-oh, yeah, twenty-four years."

Bailey sipped her wine, although she really wanted to slug it down. "Want to sit out by the pool? It's really nice out there. Besides, what's the sense of having your own private pool if you don't at least sit by it?" And there were no couches.

"Sure. Lead the way."

They ended up sitting at the umbrella table, but so close their knees were touching. Zack stared at her, as if waiting for her to start the conversation.

"So, in the beginning, was Alaska all you thought it would be?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Didn't we already discuss that?"

"You mean on the beach? Sort of. But I want to know if you were glad you took Nate's offer."

He shrugged. "In the beginning, and for a long time after that."

"Tell me about it." That was pretty safe territory. Right? "You didn't give me many details before."

He swallowed some of his wine then sat back in his chair. As she listened to him describe the three-plane flying service Nate had bought with just one pilot besides himself, she could hear the excitement in his voice. The moment Zack arrived, Nate handed him a big book with all the maps and previous flight plans, told him to study it, then stuck him in a plane and said, "Go." There was no missing the energy that crackled from him as he talked about what he did. And as she listened, she was more convinced than ever she'd done the right thing.

"I'd have to say, there's scarcely a place in Alaska I haven't flown," he told her. "But that's not what I-"

"And are you happy in Atlanta? Are you doing well there?"

"Yes." He frowned. "Why are you-"

"So we both have been successful," she interrupted, not sure if she was ready-or ever would be-to discuss their last days together and her silence since then.

"Okay, if you want to play twenty questions, was law school everything you thought it would be? I'll bet you aced every class."

She shrugged. "I did well. I guess because I loved what I was studying."

"I hope you didn't lock yourself up with your books until graduation. All work and no play...you know what that does."

"I was fine. I had a life outside of law school." With Michael.

"And you ended up down here?" He studied her face carefully. "I'm surprised you didn't want something in North Carolina, where your folks are. Were you seeing someone living here?"

She did her best to make her laugh sound light and offhand.

"A friend, but not male. This was a lucky break for me, getting the offer to join this firm in Naples. It was too good an offer to pass up. Like I told you on the beach, I was visiting my friend, spending some downtime before lining up interviews. I went to a dinner party with her and her family and met Warren Blake. He said they were looking for new young blood and invited me to his office to interview. I guess it's true what they say about being in the right place at the right time."

He studied her face, staring as if he could see inside her. "Are you happy here? What do you do with your life when you aren't practicing law? Surely that doesn't take up your time twenty-four seven."

She waved a hand in a nonchalant gesture. What to tell him? She sure couldn't share any details of her personal life with him.

"You know what they say. A good lawyer is married to his or her practice. And almost everything I do impacts on my practice one way or another." She sipped some wine, determined to redirect the conversation. "Anyway, I'm glad Alaska worked out for you just the way you wanted it to. And that success followed you to Atlanta."

Okay! Could I sound any more fake?

His gaze on her was so intent she thought he could see right through her.

"Forget about that for right now. I'd rather you tell me why the hell you never took my phone calls. Why you changed your cell number. Why you never answered my letters. What the hell, Bailey? We were a lot more than fuck buddies who lived together."

Okay, then. We're right into it.

"Fuck buddies? What a romantic way of putting it."