Moonlight Beach Bachelors: Her Forbidden Cowboy

“Here goes.” With the press of a button, the engine purred to life. Zane showed her how to adjust her seat and mirrors using the control buttons. Once set, she supposed she was as ready as she would ever be. She pumped the gas pedal and gripped the steering wheel. She’d never driven anything but a sedan, a boring four-door family car with no bells and whistles. This car had it all. A thrill shimmied up her legs...all that power under her control.

She backed the car out of the garage and made the turn into a long driveway that reached the front gate. Upon Zane’s voice command, the gate slid open, and she pulled forward and onto the highway. She drove along the shoreline, keeping her eyes trained on the road and her speed under thirty miles per hour.

His back was angled against the passenger door and his seat. She sensed him watching her. He’d opted to keep the top up on the convertible, for anonymity, she supposed. Even though he’d not had a hint of scandal to his name, every time Zane went out, he risked being photographed. Putting the top down on his car in the light of day would be like asking for trouble.

She didn’t dare shoot him a glance, keeping her focus on the road.

“What?” she asked finally. “Your grandmother drives faster than me?”

“I didn’t say a word.” His Texas drawl seeped into her bones. “But now that you mention it, I think my great-grandmother drove her horse and buggy a mite faster than you.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. Maybe I’d drive faster if I knew where I was going.”

He sighed. “I’ve learned that sometimes, it’s better not to know where you’re going. Sometimes, planning isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Some roads are better not mapped out.”

After that cryptic statement, she did look his way and found him resting his head against the window. His sunglasses hid his eyes and his true expression. The mood in the car grew heavy, and she didn’t know how to answer him, so she buttoned her lips and continued to drive.

After five minutes of silence, Zane shifted in his seat. “Wanna see the site of the restaurant? The framework is up.”

“I’d love to.”

He directed her down a side road that wound around a cove. Then the beach opened up again to a street that faced the ocean. Unique shops and a few other small restaurants sparsely dotted the shoreline before she came upon the skeletal frame of a building.

“There it is. You can park along the side of the road here.” He gestured to a space, and she swung the car into the spot.

“This is a great location.”

“I think so, too. On a clear day, there’s visibility for miles going in either direction.”

The beach was wide where the restaurant would sit, far enough from the water to avoid high tides. A rock embankment jutted out to the left, where pelicans rested, scoping out their next meal. Above them and across the road, far up on the cliffs sat zillion-dollar homes overlooking the coastline.

“Do you want to get out?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Hold on,” she said, killing the engine and climbing out. She reached into the backseat and grabbed his crutches, then strolled to his side of the car. He was lifting himself out of his seat by the time she got there. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

She waited for him to get his bearings, and they moved through the sand until they reached the beach side of the restaurant. “So this is Zane’s on the Beach.”

“Yep. Gonna be.”

“I suppose it’s good that you’re branching out. You’ve become a regular entrepreneur.”

“Can’t sing forever.”

Why not? Willie Nelson, George Strait and Dolly Parton weren’t having career problems. And neither was Zane. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not eager to go back to doing what you love to do?”

It was a personal question. Maybe too personal, given that Zane didn’t react to it at all. He simply stared at the ocean, thinking.

“I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“Don’t apologize, Jess,” he rasped with a note of irritation. “You can ask me anything you want.”

Okay, she’d take him up on that. “So, then, why are you searching for something else when you’ve established yourself as a superstar and you have fans all over the world waiting for your return?”

He closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m tired of being in my own skin.”

It was the most honest answer he could’ve given her. Zane was hurting. Still. And he didn’t know how to deal with it. “I get that. After my disastrous breakup with Steven, I felt totally out of options. I didn’t know who to trust, what to believe. I couldn’t make a decision to save my life. That’s why when I had to get out of Dodge, I let my mother take over and make arrangements. After she did, I didn’t have the gumption to argue with her. No offense, but visiting you wasn’t even on my radar.”

He chuckled. “Should I be insulted?”

She softened her voice. “You made a point of keeping away from the entire family after Janie...”

He winced at her honesty. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so blunt. “It’s not for the reasons you think.”

“I know why you did it, Zane.”

He put his head down. “I was having a hard time.”

“I know.” He’d been swallowed up with guilt. Janie was five months pregnant when she lost her life. Zane was touring in London, and Janie wanted desperately to travel with him. Zane had given her a flat-out no. He didn’t want her away from her doctors, on a whirlwind schedule that would sap her energy. They’d argued until Zane had gotten his way. He’d loved Janie so much, trying to protect her and keep her safe. It was a tragic irony that she’d died in her own home on the night Zane had performed for Prince Charles and the royal family. Momentary grief swept over his features. He’d probably feel the guilt of his decision until his dying day. But there was no one to blame. No one could’ve known that Janie would’ve been safer in London than resting in her own sprawling, comfortable ranch house while Zane was gone. Her mother had recognized that. Jessica recognized that, but Zane wouldn’t let himself off the hook.

Braced by the crutches under his arms, Zane let go of one handle and took her right hand. Lacing their fingers, he applied slight pressure there, squeezing her hand as they stared at the ocean. “I’m glad you’re here, Jess.”

Peace and pain mingled together, a bittersweet and odd combination of emotions that she was certain Zane was experiencing, too. They’d both lost so much and shared a profound connection.

Afternoon winds blew her hair onto her cheek and Zane touched her face, removing the wayward strands, tucking them behind her ear. “It’s good to have someone who understands,” he whispered.

She nodded.

“You can trust me,” he said.

“I do.” Strangely, she did trust Zane. He wasn’t a threat to her, not the way every other man in the universe might be. She had learned some harsh lessons about men and about herself. She’d never overlook the obvious the way she had with Steven. She’d never allow herself to be fooled into believing a relationship would work when there were three strikes against it from the get-go.

“This is nice,” she murmured.

“Mmm,” he replied.

Zane released her hand, and they fell into comfortable silence, watching wave upon wave hit the shore. After a minute, he turned her way. “Do you want to see the inside of the restaurant?”

Her gaze was drawn to the framed, unroofed, sandy-floored structure behind her. “I sure do!”

He laughed. “Follow me, if you can keep up.” He hobbled ahead of her. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”

* * *

Zane folded his arms and leaned back in the booth of Amigos del Sol—friends of the sun—watching Jess pore over the menu items of his favorite off-the-beaten-path Mexican restaurant. It was a small hacienda-style place known for making the most delicious, fresh guacamole right at the table. “Everything is great here, but the tamales are out of this world.”

And the guacamole was on its way.

Jessica’s head was down, and her glasses dropped to the tip of her nose. With her index finger, she pushed them up to the bridge of her nose. He grinned. It was a habit of hers that he found adorable.

“Tamales it is. I will bow to your vast culinary taste. But I’m even more impressed at how you managed to sneak us in the back way and get this corner booth.”

“I shouldn’t give away my secrets, but while you were navigating turns and learning how to gun the engine on my car, I texted Mariah to call the owner and let him know we needed a quiet spot and we’d appreciate coming in through the back door.”

“Ah...Mariah. Your secret weapon.”

“She makes things happen.”

“I’ve noticed. She anticipates your every move and watches out for you.”

“Yeah, like a mother hen,” he said. “Not that I’m ungrateful. She’s like my second right arm.” He lifted his broken wrist. “And in my condition, that’s important.”

A uniformed waiter pushed a food cart to their table. Zane practically salivated. He’d been craving the homemade guacamole since earlier in the day. The waiter set out a molcajete and tejolote, a mortar and pestle carved from volcanic rock, to begin preparations. Squeezing lime juice into the bowl first, he added cilantro, bits of tomato, garlic and other spices. Next he used the pestle to grind all the flavors together and scooped out three perfectly ripe avocados. The aroma of the blended spices and avocados flavored the air. Once done, the guacamole and warm tortilla chips were placed on the table.

After the waiter took their dinner order, he walked off with his cart. Zane grabbed a tortilla chip and dipped it into the fresh green mixture, offering it to Jess first. “Taste this and tell me it’s not heaven.”

She leaned in close enough for him to place the chip into her mouth. As she chewed, a beautiful smile emerged, and her eyes closed. She sighed. “Oh, this is so good.”

Drawn to the sublime expression on her face, he forgot about his craving for a few seconds. Eyeing her reaction distracted him in ways that might’ve been worrisome, if it hadn’t been Jess. As soon as she finished chewing, she snapped her eyes open. “You didn’t have one yet?”

“No...it was too much fun watching you.”

“I seem to be a source of your amusement lately.”

That much was true. Jess being here brightened up his solemn mood. That wasn’t a bad thing, was it? He dipped a chip in and came up with a large chunk of guacamole. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed. On a swallow, he said. “Oh, man. That’s good.”

Jess’s eyes darted past him, focusing on something happening behind his back.

“Uh...oh. Don’t turn around, Zane,” she whispered.

As soon as her words were out, two twentysomething girls approached the table, giddy and bumping shoulders with each other. “Hello. Excuse me,” one of them said. “But we’re big fans of yours.”

“Thank you,” he said.

“Would you mind signing a napkin for us?”

He glanced at Jessica and she nodded.

“Sure will.”

They produced two white napkins and a pen, which made things a little less awkward. Zane hated waiting around while fans scrambled for something for him to autograph. They gave him their names, and he signed the napkins and handed them back.

“Thank you. Thank you. You’re our favorite country singer. I just can’t believe we’ve met you. Your last ballad was amazing. You have the best voice. I saw you in concert five years ago, when I was living in Abilene with my folks.”

Zane kept a smile on his face. The girls were clueless that they were interrupting his meal with Jessica. “Well, that’s nice to hear.”

They stared at him, hovering close.

Jessica stood up then. Bracing her hands on the table, she smiled at the girls. “Hello. I’m Jessica, Zane’s sister-in-law.” The girls seemed baffled when she shook both of their hands. “We were having a little family talk, and we’re limited on time. Otherwise I’m sure Zane would love to speak to you. If you give me your names and addresses, I’ll see that you get a signed CD of his latest album. And please be discreet when you leave here,” she whispered. “Zane loves meeting his fans, but we really need a few private moments during our meal tonight.”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” one of them said congenially.

The other girl wrote their addresses on the napkin Jessica provided before she wished them well. Giggling quietly, the two women walked away.

Zane stared at Jessica. “I’m impressed.”

“I’ve been listening to how Mariah deals with your fan club members. I hope it’s okay that I offered them a CD.”

“It’s fine. Happens all the time. I wish I’d have thought of it myself.”

“They were persistent.”

Zane shook his head. “I could tell you stories.” But he wouldn’t. Some of the things that had happened to him while touring on the road weren’t worth repeating. “Actually, these two were a little subtle compared with some of the people who approach me.”

“You mean, compared with the women who approach you.”

He scrubbed his chin, his fingers brushing over prickly stubble. “I suppose.”

Jessica snorted. “You don’t have to be modest on my account. I know you’re in demand.”

He tossed his head back and laughed. “In demand? What are you getting at?”

“You’re single, available, successful and handsome. Those two women who left here would probably describe you as a hottie, a hunk, a heartthrob and a hero. You’re in the 4-H club of men.”

His smile broadened. “The 4-H club of men? You just made that up.”

“Maybe,” she said, taking a big scoop of guacamole and downing the chip in one big swallow. “Maybe not.”

“You constantly surprise me,” he said, sipping water. He could use something stronger. “I like that about you.”

“And I like that you’re decent to folks who admire you.”

Their eyes met, and something warm zipped through his gut. Jessica’s compliments meant more to him than ten thousand wide-eyed, giddy fans. He admired her, too. “Ah, shucks, ma’am. Now you’re gonna make me blush.”

Another unladylike snort escaped through her mouth. Zane grinned and leaned way back in his seat just as his cell phone rang. Dang, he didn’t want to speak to anyone now, but only a few close friends and family knew his number. He fished the phone out of his pocket. “It’s Mariah,” he said to Jessica. He turned his wrist to glance at his watch. It was after eight. “That’s odd. She usually texts me if she needs me for something after hours. Excuse me a second.”

“Hi,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Zane, s-something terrible’s h-happened.” Sobs came through the phone, Mariah’s voice frantic and unsteady. Zane froze, those words instilling fear and flashing a bad memory. “My mother had a stroke. It’s pretty b-bad.”

“Oh, man. Sorry to hear that, Mariah.”

“I have to fly home right away. Th-they don’t know...oh, Zane...she’s so young. Only sixty-four. She never had health problems before. Oh, God.”

“Mariah, you just do what you have to do. Don’t worry about a thing.” Her voice broke down, her sobs growing louder. “Where are you?”

“At Patty’s h-house in Santa Monica.” She shared a place temporarily with an old college roommate. The situation was perfect while he was staying on Moonlight Beach. She was close by without living under his roof.

“Pack up a few things and try to stay calm. Do you have a flight?”

“Patty got me on a midnight flight to Miami.”

“Okay...I’ll send a car for you in an hour. Hang in there, Mariah.”

“It’s okay, Zane. I a-appreciate it, but Patty offered to d-drive me. I’ll be fine.” A deep, sorrowful sigh whispered through the phone. “Are you going to be all right? I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”

“Don’t worry about me.” He stared at Jessica. Her eyes were softly sympathetic and kind. “Take all the time you need. And call if there’s any way I can help, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks. Goodbye, Zane.”

Zane hung up the phone. “Man, that’s rough. Mariah’s mother had a stroke. She’s on her way to Florida now.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is it serious?”

“Seems that way.” He ran a hand down his face, pulling the skin taut. “I’ve never heard her so unraveled before. She may be gone a long time.”

“I would think so. Will you find a replacement for her?”

Zane wasn’t thinking along those lines. Not yet. He kept hearing the disbelief and pain in Mariah’s voice and understood it all too well.

Your wife didn’t make it, Zane.

Didn’t make what? he’d asked the doctor over and over, screaming into the phone. Then, all the way home from London, he kept thinking, hoping, praying it had been a mistake. A horrible, sick mistake. It wasn’t until he saw the desolate ruins of his once proud home in Beckon that it finally sank in Janie was gone. Forever.

The meal was served, and as his gaze landed on the plate of saucy cheese-topped tamales, blood drained from his face, and his gut rebelled. For Jessica’s sake, he pushed his haunting memories aside. He didn’t want to ruin her meal.

Jessica reached for him across the table, her fingertips feathering over his good hand gently, comforting him with the slightest touch. When he lifted his lids, he gazed into her knowing, sensitive eyes, and she smiled. “Let’s have them pack up this food. We’ll eat it later on.”

“Do you mind?” he asked.

“Not at all. I’m ready to go anytime you are.”

He felt at peace suddenly, a glowing warmth usurping the dread inside his gut.

And then it hit him. Sweet Jess. She was good for him. She understood him, perhaps better than anyone else on this earth. She was a true friend, an authentic reminder of home, and he needed her here.

“You asked me before if I’d find a replacement for Mariah.”

“Yes, I did. Hard shoes to fill, I would imagine.”

“Yeah, I agree.” He looked her squarely in the eyes. “Except I’ve already found someone, and I’m looking straight at her.”

Four

Jessica woke to a glorious sunrise, the stream of light cutting through early morning haze and clouds in a host of color. Every morning brought something new from the view outside her bedroom window, and she was beginning to enjoy the variance from fog to haze to brilliance that took place before her eyes.

She stretched her arms above her head, working out the kinks, not so much in her shoulders and neck, but the ones baffling her brain. Last night, Zane told her to keep an open mind and sleep on his suggestion of replacing Mariah as his personal assistant. Her mouth had dropped open, and she thought him insane for a few seconds, but then he pointed out that he wasn’t working, he had no gigs lined up, and he wasn’t doing interviews right now. Most of what she had to do was hold off the press and postpone anything pending to future dates.

She wouldn’t go into it cold. Mariah would be in touch to give her the guidance she needed to get her through anything remotely difficult.

“You’re an intelligent woman, Jess. I’m convinced you’d have no problem, and I’m right here to help you,” he’d said.

Zane’s assurances last night gave her the push over the edge she’d needed this morning. Her head was clear now, and she valued the challenge and even looked forward to it. She wasn’t ready to return to Texas anyway. Zane wanted freedom from his agent and manager’s constant urging to get back on the horse. Zane wasn’t ready yet and she could understand that. He needed more time, just as she did.

The new, bronzer Jessica no longer had freckles on her nose, thanks to a wonderful suntan that had connected those freckly dots and browned up her light skin. How many more hours could she feasibly sunbathe her day away? Staying on for a few weeks and helping Zane out would give her a new sense of purpose.

Jessica showered and dressed quickly. Putting on a pair of khaki shorts and a loose mocha-brown blouse, she slipped her feet into flip-flops and strode toward the kitchen. There were no wickedly delicious aromas drifting from the kitchen this morning. Mrs. Lopez had yet to arrive.

“Sonofabitch!”

A string of Zane’s profanities carried to her ears. She grinned. Poor guy. He hated being confined.

She ventured into his bedroom. “Zane?”

“In here!”

She followed the sound of his cursing. He was standing over the bathroom sink, and their eyes met in the mirror. A scowl marred his handsome face, and three blood dots covered with bits of tissue spotted his cheeks and chin. Remnants of lime-scented shaving cream covered the rest of his face. “Damn hand. It’s impossible to get a good shave.”

“Whoops.” With her index finger, she caught a drop of blood dripping from his chin before it landed on his white ribbed tank. “Got it.”

He peered at her in the mirror and handed her a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Thank me later, after I shave you. We’ll see if I can’t do a better job.”

“You?”

“I used to lather up my dad and shave him when I was a kid.” She hoisted herself up onto the marble counter to face him and picked up his razor. “It used to be a game, but darn it, I did an excellent job. Dad was surprised. Seems I’m pretty good with one of these.”

Doubtful eyes peered at the razor in her hand.

“What? You don’t trust me? It’s a guarantee I’d do a better job than what I see on your face now. Or, I can drive you to the local barbershop. Since I’m going to be your new personal assistant and all.”

The scowl left his face immediately, and her heart warmed at seeing approval in his eyes. “You’ve decided, then?”

“Yes, I’m on the clock now. So what will it be? A shave by your PA or a drive to the barber?”

“Try not to cut me,” he said.

“You’ve already done a good job of that.” She handed him a towel. “Wipe your face clean. We’ll start from scratch.”

Zane’s eyes widened.

She chuckled at her bad choice of words. “You know what I mean.” Pressing down on the canister, she released a mound of shave cream in her hand and leaned forward to rub it over his cheeks, chin and throat.

Zane leaned a little closer, his body braced by the counter. Her heart did a little dance in her chest. His nearness, the refreshing heady lime scent, her position sitting on the counter, touching him—suddenly she was all too aware of the intimate act she was performing on her brother-in-law.

What on earth was she doing?

Zane needed help and she’d rushed to his aid. But she hadn’t thought this through.

He still towered over her, but only by a few inches now. She lifted her eyes and found him, waiting and watching her through the mirror.

Her hand wasn’t so steady anymore.

She couldn’t fall down on her first official act as Zane’s personal assistant, intimate as it was.

“Okay, are you ready?”

He kept perfectly still. “Hmm.”

Her legs were near his hip, and she angled her body to get closer to his face. Bracing her left hand on his shoulder to steady herself, she was taken by the strong rock-hard feel of him under her fingertips. She stroked his face, and the razor met with stubble and gently scraped it away. Carefully she proceeded, gliding the razor over his skin in the smoothest strokes she could manage.

His breath drifted her way as heat from his body radiated out, surrounding her. Cocooned in Zane’s warmth, she fought an unwelcome attraction to him by thinking of Steven, the man who’d shattered her faith. And that reminder worked. Thoughts of Steven could destroy any thrilling moment in her life. She dipped the razor into the sink and shook it off. Zane’s gaze left the mirror, and as she lifted her eyes to his, there in that moment, a sudden surprising sizzle passed between them.

One, two, three seconds went by.

And then he focused his attention back on the mirror, keeping a silent vigil on her reflection.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, breaking the quiet tension.

“Am I bleeding?”

Her lips hitched at his intense tone. “No.”