Frannie was drifting in and out. She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar smells. When she moved restlessly, she groaned. If this was a migraine, it was the mother of all migraines.
It was easier to keep her eyes closed.
She didn’t know where she was. Or why she was in so much pain.
Vague wisps of memories slid into her mental view, but then floated away before she could focus. Her mouth was cottony dry.
“May I...?” The words barely formed. Could anyone hear her?
Perhaps she should try again to open her eyes. This time was a bit more successful. She could see a clock on the wall, though she had no idea of the day’s date. Or even if it was day or night. Gingerly, she turned her head, inhaling sharply when a knife stabbed the back of her skull. Sweet Jesus.
One of her arms was tethered to something. Was she in the hospital?
When she turned her head the rest of the way, she saw Zach. He appeared to be asleep. His dark lashes lay like shadows on his tanned cheeks. His chin was covered with several days of stubble. She had never seen him so unkempt.
His cheek rested on the edge of the mattress. One of his hands held hers. He was bent in what must be a terribly uncomfortable position.
She wanted to lift her hand and stroke his hair, but her brain couldn’t make her hand move. Not only that, but she didn’t want to let go of his fingers.
Slowly, without moving her head again, she ran her gaze around the room. Yep. Definitely a hospital. When she tried to account for her presence here, the burst of brainpower convinced her to let it go. Thinking was too hard.
The need for water became intense. “Zach,” she croaked. His name barely sounded like a word at all, but he heard her. He lifted his head and sat straight up in his chair. “Frannie? Are you awake?”
She nodded slowly. “Thirsty.”
“Of course.” He moved quickly, picking up a pink pitcher and pouring water into a glass. Then he added a bendy straw. When he held the straw to her lips, she could hear the ice chinking against the plastic sides of the small cup. She drank thirstily, almost groaning aloud. “Good,” she whispered.
Finally, even that was too much. She shook her head and closed her eyes.
The next time she woke up, Katie sat in the chair. The fact that Zach was gone made Frannie sad, but she didn’t let on. “What day is it?” she asked, the words hoarse.
Katie stroked her hand. “Tuesday,” she said simply. “Your throat is sore because you had a tube for a while. But you’re going to be fine.”
“Okay.”
The other woman offered her water without asking. Frannie managed more of it this time. She wasn’t going to ask about Zach. She wasn’t.
Katie’s smile was kind. “Zach has been here day and night. Farrell finally made him go outside and walk around the block. He’ll be back soon. They both will. Can I get you anything else? Some food?”
The thought of eating made Frannie grimace. “No, thank you.” She moved restlessly. Her body hurt all over, but her head was the worst. “Can I go home now?”
“Not yet, sweetie. Relax, and let us take care of you.”
Frannie drifted off again. It wasn’t a conscious choice. Exhaustion pulled her under.
Eventually, she surfaced again. Zachary was back, but he wasn’t sleeping. His gaze was locked on her face. “You shaved,” she said.
His laugh sounded rusty. “I was scruffy. And I needed a shower.”
“Will you take me back to the hotel?”
He froze. “You remember the hotel?”
She frowned. Did she? Trying to piece together the memory made her weepy. “I don’t know.” She felt a tear trickle down her cheek.
Zachary looked aghast. “Never mind,” he said quickly. “It doesn’t matter.”
He kissed her cheek and smoothed her hair. “You scared me, Bug.”
“What’s wrong with my head?”
He frowned. “You hit it. On the back. You needed a few stitches, and they think you may have a hairline fracture, but everything is healing well. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. She was too vulnerable and too wiped out to be anything but honest.
Zachary’s expression was hard to read. “Where else would I be?” he said lightly.
She curled her fingers around his. “I think I remember your condo. You could take me there, right?”
His throat worked as he swallowed. “I would if I could, Bug, but the doctor says at least one more day. You have to eat solid food, and all your tests need to come back clear. It’s not so bad. I won’t leave you.”
An attractive woman entered the room wearing a white lab coat and black pants. “I’m Dr. Maroney,” she said. “You and I are well acquainted, Ms. Wickersham, but you’ve been out cold for most of it. I’m glad to see you looking perky.”
“I don’t feel perky.” Frannie made a face.
The doctor laughed. “I’m sure you don’t, but you’re doing well. I’m a professional. You can trust me.” The doctor looked at Zachary. “It’s time.”
Zach shook his head vehemently. “This is the first day she’s sounded like herself. I think we need to wait.”
Frannie looked from one to the other. “Am I missing something?”
The doctor pulled up a chair, putting herself eye to eye with her patient. “Something bad happened to you, Frances. That’s why you’re here. The police need to question you.”
Frannie’s heart pounded. “The police?” She felt her pulse race. One of the monitors started beeping.
“See,” Zachary shouted. “It’s too soon.”
“Don’t yell at my doctor,” Frannie said, embarrassed.
The doctor smiled. “He’s worried about you. But you’re strong, Frances. You took a hard lick to the head. Yet you’re still with us. That’s cause for celebration.”
“And the police?”
The doctor hesitated. “Do you remember what you do for a living, Ms. Wickersham?”
“You can call me Frances. I’m a...” Frannie searched her brain. “I use computers. I’m a...” Her head ached. “I’m a hacker.”
“Yes.” The doc nodded approval. “And where were you working most recently?”
Frannie shot a glance at Zach. “For him, right?”
The doctor spoke softly. “I want you to try to remember last Saturday. It was less than a week ago. You went to the offices of Stone River Outdoors, the company Mr. Stone and his brothers own jointly.”
Anxiety rose in Frannie’s chest. “Last Saturday was a bad day,” Frannie whispered.
“Why?”
“Well, I...” Frannie closed her eyes and let herself remember. “Zach left,” she said dully. “On a plane.”
“But what about the office where you were. Do you remember that?”
“Yes. I went to work. I was making progress on the case.”
“And what happened?”
Frannie felt cold all over. “I heard a noise behind me. I thought Zach might have changed his mind. Before I could turn around, something or someone hit me on the back of the head.” She started shaking. “Is that enough? I don’t want to talk anymore.”
Zachary burst into the hall, furious. He stared at the detective who had been listening at the door. “I hope like hell you got what you needed. She knows nothing. And you just put her through hell.”
The truth was, Zachary himself had put her through hell. He had walked away from her, intending to get on that damn plane. He would never forgive himself.
The doctor joined them. “Ms. Wickersham won’t have to do that again. But the police needed her statement.”
“Screw that,” Zachary muttered. He slammed his fist into the wall, seeing Frannie’s face when she said, Zach left. I thought Zach might have changed his mind.
He had abandoned her. Told her he didn’t care about her investigation. Questioned her judgment.
Even worse, he’d brushed her off when she wanted to talk about his book, when she’d been trying to connect to all the things he kept hidden, the “him” he never showed anyone else.
He was an asshole, and he sure as hell didn’t deserve to have Frances Wickersham in his life.
But he loved her, and he refused to give up. He would strip his emotions raw and stand naked if it would make things right.
Seventy-two hours later, Zachary took Frannie home to his condo. The doctor, worried about her patient, had kept a very stressed Frannie a few extra days because of the unfolding events involving Edward Cordell. Ivy had gone to the hotel several hours ago, picked up Frannie’s things and checked her out. Now there was no reason for Frannie not to stay with Zach.
The family was gathering in a few hours to hear Frannie’s report. The police had made some arrests. Frannie had insisted on helping with their investigation once she realized that no one knew the chain of events like she did.
Zachary settled her on the sofa with mounds of blankets and pillows and snacks close by. Frannie shook her head with a wry smile. “I think this is overkill, but thank you.”
“How do you feel today?” he asked. “And don’t try to fib to me, Bug. I can read you like a book.”
She refused to lie down. But she curled her legs pretzel-style and snuggled under a red wool afghan that flattered her coloring. “A lot better. Seriously. The headache is manageable, and I have most of my energy back.”
“You don’t have to do this tonight. Everyone will understand.”
“I want to. Besides, once all of this is wrapped up, my job will be finished and I can head home.”
His stomach tightened. “Maybe.”
She folded her arms across her chest, cocked her head and stared at him. “You’re acting weird. What’s going on with you?”
He came to her and sat down on the coffee table so they were knee to knee. “I know my timing is off, but this can’t wait. I’m in love with you, Frannie.”
She blinked. Shook her head firmly. “No. You’re not. You’re feeling guilty because I got hurt on SRO property. Don’t worry. I won’t sue you.”
Her flip response frustrated him, but he held his temper, because he probably deserved that. This moment was too important to let her sidetrack him. “Even before I saw you in that bed, unconscious, I understood.”
“Understood what?”
“That I loved you.”
She pursed her lips. “May I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“They told me you were the one who found me and called 911. How is that possible if you were on a plane?”
Thinking about that day made him shudder. “I was almost at the airport,” he said. “Suddenly, I had this overpowering feeling that you were in trouble. Like that night at Glenderry when those two boys had you cornered. I turned the car around and drove like hell to headquarters, but it was too late.”
She patted his hand. “Maybe not. The police think my attacker was probably still in the building. When he heard you, it must have scared him off and saved my life.”
“I thought you were dead,” he croaked, remembering. “There was so much blood, and you were unconscious.”
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“Don’t apologize to me,” he shouted, jumping up and pacing.
Frannie sighed, seeming to deflate. “It’s all over, Zach. It’s all over. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
Except it wasn’t. He had told Frannie he loved her, and she had brushed his declaration aside as if it were inconsequential. And he’d pushed her away when she had reached out to him, wanting to know and accept the real Zachary Stone. She had little reason to believe him now, given the way he had acted, but still.
Despite her protests to the contrary, Frannie was weak. She fell asleep after he fed her lunch, and she napped for almost two hours. While she rested, he paced.
He had to make her believe him. He loved her, and as scary as it was, he didn’t want to hide who he really was from her any longer. He sure as hell couldn’t let her leave Portland. If that happened, he might never see her again.
At five, his brothers and sisters-in-law arrived. Dolly was with a sitter. Katie and Ivy had prepared finger foods for the evening meal, perhaps understanding that Frannie wasn’t up to sitting at the dining room table for long periods of time.
While everyone ate, the conversation remained light and low-key. It was Frannie who finally broached the subject that had brought them all here.
She surveyed the group with a smile. “This wasn’t quite how I imagined making my report, but here goes.”
Farrell held up a hand. “Before you start, I think I speak for all of us when I say how glad we are that you have recovered so well. You had us scared, Frances.”
“Well, I’m fine,” she said briskly. “Unfortunately, your paranoia was well-founded, as I guess we all now know.”
Quin frowned. “And it really was Edward Cordell?”
Frannie never looked at Zachary. “Yes, but he had help. His twenty-four-year-old grandson was involved. The policy at SRO is no personal email on company computers. Edward abided by that rule...mostly. But twice, in the time before you began noticing irregularities and before the car accident, Edward slipped up and emailed his grandson from work. After I found that, I was able to hack into his personal email account, and it was all there.”
“But why?” Katie asked.
“From what I could tell,” Frannie said, “Mr. Cordell had been nursing a decades-long grudge. Mr. Stone Sr. was his best friend. But Edward felt like he had been cheated in some business venture the two of them were involved in back in the early ’70s. Edward began using his grandson as a sounding board. The grandson bought into the notion that Edward was owed something more than a pension, and between them, they hatched a plan to destroy Stone River Outdoors as revenge.”
Farrell was pale. “And the car accident?”
“Once I had the pieces, I spoke with the investigator you hired. We think the grandson paid a junkie to cause the accident, but it went too far. Perhaps it was only supposed to shake things up.”
“And my stolen designs?”
“I found digital photographs. Apparently, Edward was in your office at some point, saw a sketch pad and snapped a few pics with his phone. He gave them to the grandson, who floated them on half a dozen disreputable websites and found a buyer. As you probably know, the police have arrested both men. The grandson was defiant. He had been planning more mishaps for SRO. But in Edward’s statement, he apologized to all of you for letting his bitterness get out of control.”
Ivy shook her head slowly. “What a terrible sequence of events. You three brothers lost your father, and now two more men will likely spend their lives in prison. It’s like a Greek tragedy, only worse, because it affects the people I love.”
Zachary stood and paced, feeling jittery. In a Greek tragedy, there was never a happily-ever-after when it came to love and romance. He had to rewrite the ending of this damned play, but how?
Farrell stood. “I think it’s time for all of us to go home and let the patient rest.”
Frannie shook her head. “I’m fine. I love the company.”
Zachary heard the subtext loud and clear. She didn’t want to be alone with him. Thankfully for his agenda, the family went home anyway.
Frannie stretched. “I’m sleeping out here tonight, Zach. This sofa is super comfy, and I like being near the fireplace.”
He stared at her, feeling helpless. She was still fragile. He couldn’t push her too hard. He had to abide by her wishes. But how could he get through to her? How could he make her believe that his love was the real deal and that he realized his mistakes and was willing to change?
Maybe it was a moot point. Maybe she didn’t care.
“Okay.” He shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
Frannie was miserable. If she’d had her way, she would be staying at the hotel. But she knew without asking that neither Zachary nor any of his family would have allowed that. They all, to a one, felt responsible for her.
Their concern was touching, but Frannie desperately wanted to be alone. It was painful to remember how much she had put on the line and that Zach had rejected her love, even though she hadn’t technically spelled it out in words. His reciprocal confession was suspect. No matter how badly she wanted to believe him, she had to face the unpalatable truth that he was probably acting out of guilt and remorse.
Zachary lingered after his brothers and their wives left. “I’m going to my room now,” he said, the words oddly formal. “If you need anything at all, please call my cell.”
She stared at his expressionless face, her heart breaking. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then he was gone.
The powder room down the hall had a full bath. Even so, Frannie didn’t have the energy for a shower. The nurse had helped her take one before leaving the hospital. That would have to do for now.
After changing into her pajama pants and T-shirt, she brushed her teeth and swallowed a couple of headache tablets. She really was improving hour by hour, but late in the day, the back of her skull throbbed.
When she returned to the living room, all the lights were out, save for the one she could reach beside the sofa. Zachary had tidied the area and brought out a soft bedsheet to cover the couch cushions, and also an extra pillow. Her blanket was folded back neatly.
On the coffee table, where she couldn’t miss it, lay a thick pile of manuscript pages. His book.
Her legs gave out. She sat down hard, picking up the first few bits of the chapter along with the small note on top. She set the note aside, unopened, and began the book.
Fifty pages in, she started crying. It was good. So good. Brilliant, in fact. He had laid the groundwork for a mystery so cleverly that she wanted to stay up all night reading.
But it was late, and her stores of energy were depleted.
Reluctantly, she picked up the folded scrap of paper that wasn’t part of the manuscript. Zach’s handwriting, the handwriting she remembered so well, was bold and dark and compelling. The words were few:
I do love you, Bug. You’re my potential.
Her heart constricted. Her chest hurt. She wanted so very badly to believe him. Why had he left his book for her to read? Was it a peace offering, or something more?
He’d said he loved her. But they had all been under tremendous pressure and stress. The situation was unprecedented.
For years, even in high school, Zachary had refused to reveal his true self. Or maybe he had never understood what he had to offer...had never believed or recognized his true strengths.
The thought that he might be expressing remorse or guilt or even another emotion he confused with love tore her apart.
There was only one way to find out, and it was risky.
On trembling legs, she made her way down the hall to his bedroom and stood quietly in the doorway. His bedside lamp burned with a soft, warm light. The rest of the room was shadowy. He wasn’t sleeping, or she didn’t think so. Instead, he lay on his back with one arm slung over his eyes. He was naked above the sheet he had pulled to his waist.
“Zach.” She clung to the door frame.
He sat straight up in bed, his hair askew, his expression wild. Maybe he had been sleeping after all.
She winced. “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I wasn’t asleep. I was thinking.”
Frannie took a few more steps toward the bed but stopped in the middle of the room. “Thinking about what?”
His face was grief stricken. There were no other words to describe the anguish she saw in him. “About failing you. In every way. As a friend, as a lover, as a human being.”
“You are who you are, Zach. And I love you...all of you.”
He tossed back the covers and stood, closing the distance between them with three long strides. “Thank God.” The way he dragged her against his warm body and buried his face in her hair made her want to weep. “I love you, too, Frannie,” he said, the gruff words stark. “I swear it on my mother’s grave.”
She stroked his back. “Love isn’t always enough. How could it work, Zach? You have two amazing homes here in Maine, a thriving company and a decades-long heritage. A family you care about. My job takes me all over the world. Besides, at the risk of sounding unbelievably selfish, I like what I do, and it gives me a great deal of fulfillment.”
He picked her up and carried her to the overlarge armchair by the fire, sitting down carefully and cuddling her in his lap. “I’ve been thinking about that, too, Bug. I’ve already spoken to my brothers, and they’ve each given me their blessing. I’m going to hire a suitable candidate to take over my position as CFO. There are plenty of trustworthy men and women out there who respect our company and would be a good fit.”
She searched his face. “But why?”
“Because being CFO is not my passion. I want to travel the world with my wife, if she’ll have me.” He kissed her softly. “What good is having a fortune if I can’t spend it doing something grand? We can visit Maine anytime, but my home will be where you are, Frannie. I adore you, sweetheart. And if you ever decide you want to try the mommy thing, I could be a kick-ass stay-at-home dad.”
“You’re serious...” She still couldn’t quite believe it.
“That’s why I left the book for you to read. So you would know for sure that I am whatever is way beyond serious. No one else has seen a word of that, Frannie. It’s deeply personal to me. From now on out, everything I have is yours. Body and soul. Heart and mind. Until death do us part.” His smile was lopsided, his gaze wary. “Will you marry me, Bug? I never did get a chance to teach you how to cook. And all that travel will give me a million ideas for new books to write.”
Frannie touched his chin, kissed his jaw. “I can’t believe this is happening. What if I’m dreaming?”
Zachary stroked her hair, twining a thick strand of it around his fingers. His brown eyes gleamed with happiness and mischief. “Then maybe we’ll never wake up, Frances Wickersham. It will be our own private fairy tale. Stone Man and the Bug. Together again.”
Tears wet her face, but they were happy tears, and Zach kissed them all away.
She rested her cheek over his heart. “Will you make love to me?”
He shook his head, looking pained. “The doc said no exertion for another week.”
“The doc isn’t here.” She pressed closer to his impressive erection.
Zachary stood and carried her to the bed. “I’ll hold you while you sleep, my love. But I’ll never hurt you again. You’re mine, Frances. Your gorgeous body, your generous, forgiving heart and your incredibly fascinating brain.” He settled her beneath the covers and scooted in beside her. “Sleep, sweet girl. Tomorrow is another day.”