Perfect (Second Opportunities 2)

"Barbra?"

Julie nodded.

"Yes, I used to know her."

"What is she like? I read somewhere that she isn't very nice to people who work with her."

Zack thought for a moment, trying to explain. "She has a gift unlike anyone else's in the world," he said after a moment. "She knows how she wants to use it, and she doesn't like other people treating her as if they know better than she how to do that. In short, she doesn't suffer fools easily."

"You liked her, didn't you?"

"I liked her very much."

Julie listened to the poignant words of the song, wondering if he was noticing them, too, or if he, like most men, merely listened to the music and ignored lyrics. "Pretty song," she said because she desperately wanted him to hear the words as if they came from her.

"Beautiful lyrics," Zack agreed, trying to steady himself, to tell himself that what he was feeling would soon fade when he was away from her. He gazed at her face, and the words of Streisand's song seem to pierce his heart:

Those tomorrows waiting deep in your eyes—

In the world of love you keep in your eyes—

I'll awaken what's asleep in your eyes.

It may take a kiss or two.

Through all of my life…

Summer, winter, spring, and fall of my life…

All I ever will recall of my life, is all of my life.

With you.

He was actually relieved when Streisand's voice faded and a Whitney Houston/Jermaine Jackson duet began to play. But Julie chose that moment to lift her cheek from his chest and look up at him, and as he looked into her eyes and heard the lyrics of the song, he felt his chest tighten.

Like a candle burning bright—

Love is glowing in your eyes.

A flame to light our way

that burns brighter every day.

I was words without a tune,

I was a song still unsung.

A poem with no rhyme, a dancer out of time…

But now there's you.

And nobody loves me like you do.

When the song came to an end, she drew a shaky breath, and he realized she was trying to pull out of the music's spell by picking up their conversation about their mutual favorites. "What's your favorite sport, Zack?"

Zack tipped her chin up. "My favorite sport," he said in an aching, husky voice he scarcely recognized as his own, "is making love to you."

Her eyes darkened with a love she wasn't trying to conceal from him anymore. "What's your favorite food?" she asked shakily.

In answer, Zack bent his head and touched her lips in a soft kiss. "You are." And in that moment, he realized that sending her out of his life tomorrow was going to be harder than it had been to hear the prison gates clanging shut behind him five years ago. Without realizing what he was doing, he tightened his arms around her, buried his face in her hair, and squeezed his eyes closed.

Her hand touched his face, her fingers spreading over his rigid jaw, and her voice was shattered. "You're planning to send me home tomorrow, aren't you?"

"Yes."

Julie heard the absolute finality in the word, and she was so attuned to him that she knew it was going to be futile to argue, but she did it anyway. "I don't want to go!"

He lifted his head, and even though his voice was still soft, it was steadier and more resolute. "Don't make it harder than it already is."

Julie wondered desolately how it could possibly be any harder, but she swallowed back that futile protest and did as he asked for the time being. She went to bed with him when he asked and tried to smile when he asked. After he'd brought them both to a shattering climax, she turned in his arms and whispered, "I love you. I love—"

His fingertips covered her lips, silencing the words when she tried to say them again. "Don't."

Julie dragged her gaze from his and bent her head, staring at his chest. She wished he would say it back to her even though he didn't mean it. She wanted to hear the words from him, but she didn't ask because she knew he would refuse.

Chapter 43

The Blazer's motor was idling, exhaust curling thickly from its tailpipe into the frosty air of dawn as they stood beside the car. "There's no snow in the weather forecast," Zack said, glancing up at the faint pink sunrise streaking the sky as he reached around the steering wheel and put a thermos full of coffee on the passenger seat beside it. He looked down at her, his expression composed. "You should have clear roads all the way back to Texas."

Julie understood the rules for this departure because he'd made them clear this morning—no tears, no regrets—and she was trying desperately to seem composed. "I'll be careful."

"Don't speed," he said. As he spoke, he reached out and pulled the zipper of her jacket up higher and then smoothed the collar up closer to her chin. The simple gesture almost made her cry. "You drive too damned fast."

"I won't speed."

"Try to get as far from here as possible without being recognized," he reminded her again, taking her sunglasses from her hand and sliding them onto her nose. "Once you make it across the Oklahoma line, pull into the first rest stop you pass and leave the car in front of it. Stay out of sight for fifteen minutes, then go straight to the pay phones and call your family. The Feds will be listening in on the conversation, so sound as nervous and confused as you can. Tell them I left you at the rest stop on the floor of the back seat, blindfolded, and that I vanished and you've gotten free. Tell them you're coming home. Once you get home, stick strictly with the truth."

He'd already taken a neck scarf from the house, knotted it as if it had been tied around her head and tossed it in the car this morning. Julie swallowed and nodded because there was nothing left to do or to say—at least, nothing that he wanted to hear.

"Any questions?" he asked.

Julie shook her head.

"Good. Now, kiss me good-bye."

Julie leaned up on her toes to kiss him and was surprised when his arms closed around her with stunning force, but his kiss was brief, then he set her away from him. "It's time," he said flatly.

She nodded but couldn't seem to move, and her resolve not to make any sort of uncomfortable scene cracked a little. "You'll write to me, won't you?"

"No."

"But you could let me know how you are," she said desperately, "even if you can't tell me where you are. I have to know you're safe! You said yourself they won't watch my mail for very long, if at all."

"If I'm caught, you'll hear about it on the news within hours. If you don't, you'll know I'm safe."