He dropped a kiss to her shoulder. "Well, Jules, we can't camp out here forever."
"Not unless we raid the snack bar," she answered absently.
"I have a desk drawer full of junk food, but I think you'd grow tired of Little Debbie cakes after a while." His gravelly voice rumbled against her, enticing her to avoid the world a while longer. "Are you about ready for us to find our clothes and go home?'
"I guess so." For five seconds she actually considered telling him she wanted to stay the whole night in his office, indulging in each other and that box of Little Debbie cakes.
Not a chance would he understand why she was too terrified to share a bed with him.
How could he when she didn't understand herself?
She only knew one thing for certain. Wild, escapism fantasy was easy. Facing the reality awaiting her at home scared her all the way down to her do-me-flyboy heels.
Zach cruised the Harley to a stop under the carport, Julia's arms loosely looped around his waist. They both needed a few solid hours of sleep, but then he had plans for her.
Already his body stirred through the exhaustion.
Being with Julia had been like one of his Harley rides, the closest thing to flying on the ground. Better. He couldn't imagine how he would ever get enough, but he intended to spend the next few months trying.
They had their life back on track. He'd been right about sharing their children and friendship. Now they also shared a jet-engine-hot attraction beyond even what he'd imagined.
And his imagination had been mighty damned active lately.
Zach parked and covered his motorcycle while Julia unlocked the door without speaking.
Her silence boded well, in his estimation. No need to hash through all the implications of what they'd done back in his office.
Definitely a good sign.
He and Julia weren't going to put each other through the emotional wringer they'd both gone through in their first marriages. This was about being practical, not about feelings.
Zach ignored the persistent voice that told him he'd been feeling anything but practical when he'd plastered Julia against his office door.
He followed her up the steps and into the dark house. The television still echoed from the family room, but all was quiet otherwise. Helping her slip out of the leather jacket, he skimmed his fingers along her arm. "I need to pick up a few things from the spare room first," he whispered low so as not to risk waking Shelby or Patrick.
Julia ducked free of the coat, backing toward the dining room. "I should turn off the television."
She disappeared around the corner, into the den. A gasp sounded, just before a thump.
Frowning, Zach slung the jacket on the coat tree. Shelby must have left some kind of mess.
The realities of life with kids. He strode through the dining room, stopping behind Julia and looking over her shoulder. Disbelief quickly shifted gears into anger.
Reality sprawled glaringly across the sofa in the form of Shelby, her boyfriend and a tangled mess of half-clad arms and legs.
Chapter 13
Zach stared at the teens on the sofa through a red haze of fury. Shelby and John gaped back with wide, deer-in-the-headlights eyes.
Chaplain Murdoch's delinquent, about-to-be-dead son bolted to his feet, open shirttails flapping. John raked back his long hair into a band. "Sorry, sir. We fell asleep."
Damn it, why did it have to make him feel a hundred years old to think no kid with hair down to his shoulders could have good intentions toward his daughter?
Zach fought his way through the anger and brushed past Julia. "Damned well doesn't look like you're sleeping to me."
Shelby closed the last button on her purple silk shirt, rhinestones blaring Princess across a pocket. "Cool your jets, Colonel. We weren't doing anything."
Zach pinned her with a glare.