Somebody to Love Read online

  He hardened his jaw. “I gave her a D because that’s what she earned.”

  “Would you have given her a higher grade if she had been your soul mate?”

  “Zoey, there’s no such thing as soul mates.”

  “Ah.” She nodded. “I know what the deal is.”

  “Enlighten me.” He picked up a cocktail napkin, and mopped the condensation off his beer bottle.

  “You haven’t felt it yet.”

  “It what?”

  “The melding of minds that happens when you meet your better half.”

  He snorted. “You’ve been living in Cupid too long.”

  “Hey, Natalie wasn’t a big believer in soul mates either until she met Dade. Look at them over there.” She nodded toward a corner table.

  Zoey’s pregnant older sister sat with her husband, Dade Vega, who was a former Navy SEAL. He and his buddy Red Daggett ran a security business, and their biggest customer was a Canadian firm that had purchased and reopened the old Fant silver mine in a nearby county. Zoey had told him all about Dade and Red in their e-mails and phone calls, but he’d never met the men in person before tonight. Natalie and Dade stared deeply into each other’s eyes, as if they were the only two people in the place. They did indeed look very happy, but Jericho was a scientist. He understood that compatibility had more to do with shared values, beliefs, and interests than some romantic notion of soul mates, but Zoey was Zoey and she had her own ideas about love.

  “Just because your sister and her husband have a great relationship it doesn’t make them soul mates. For instance, you and I get along like hydrogen and oxygen, and we’re not soul mates. Explain that.”

  Her eyelids lowered, but he could see her peeking at him beneath the dark fringe of lashes, and his gut twitched. “You’re right. As different as you and I are, we should hate each other. I guess some things are inexplicable.”

  “Have you?” he asked without even realizing he was going to ask it. “Ever felt this mind meld?”

  This time she held his gaze for so long that Jericho forgot to take a breath. “If I had, I’d be like Natalie over there, sucking face with my soul mate.”

  He exhaled, heavier than he intended.

  “Don’t resist it, Jericho. Your one true love could be in this bar right this minute.” She spun back around so she could survey the entire room.

  “You think?” he said, never taking his eyes off her.

  “Ooh.” She elbowed him in the ribs again. “Check out the blonde at four o’clock. She’s new in town. A nurse at Cupid General and I heard she’s single, although I don’t remember her name. Cheryl or Cherie or Sharla or something.”

  Why was she trying to fix him up? Was she muddily clueless how he felt about her? Or was it that she did not have similar feelings for him and was trying to hook him up before he could do something really stupid, like tell her what was on his mind?

  “Not big on blondes,” he mumbled.

  She frowned. “Since when? Mallory was blond.”

  “Exactly.” Did she ever wonder what if when it came to the two of them taking their friendship to the next obvious level now that they were both single? Of course, they couldn’t do it now. Not when his career was in limbo. He had nothing to offer her, and Zoey deserved the world on a platter.

  “Pish.” She waved her wrist like it was made of overcooked spaghetti. “You can’t exclude an entire hair color group because you had a rough go-round with one member of said hair color group.”

  “I’m not really interested in getting involved with anyone right now.”

  “Why not? If it’s been almost six months since you guys broke up—and I’m still mad at you, by the way, for not telling me about it when it happened—time to get back on that Appaloosa.”

  “I’m not ready,” he insisted.

  “What about her?” She nodded at a brunette who’d just strolled through the door. A man waved at the woman and she rushed over to kiss him. “Okay, maybe not her.”

  Jericho swallowed. Christ, why was he feeling like a shoeless man lost in the Chihuahuan Desert without a canteen? “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “When was the last time you were in a relationship?” he asked as a sudden spurt of fear made him worry that she was already in a relationship and had simply been waiting for the right moment to tell him.

  “You wanna pick my next boyfriend for me? Have at it.” She swept her gaze over him. “I’m partial to tall, dark, and handsome.”

  He gulped. Me. Pick me. “No one in this place is good enough for you,” he said earnestly.

  “Aw, aren’t you sweet.” She leaned forward, giving him an unobstructed view down the front of her shirt.

  She wouldn’t think “sweet” if she knew what was crashing through his mind. Jericho had to force himself to wrench his gaze off her cleavage. Damn V-neck blouses anyway.

  “But seriously, who would you pick out for me?” she prodded.

  “Depends on what you’re looking for,” he said through stiff lips. He hated this game. “Long-term commitment or casual fun?”

  Even though she was smiling, there was something unusually serious in her expression. “If I said ‘commitment,’ would you believe me?”

  His chest tightened. “Not if you’re truly serious about a career in archaeology. It’s going to take years to get your career off the ground, and marriage would derail you. Are you serious about archaeology, Zoe-Eyes?”

  “I’m serious about archaeology. No one believes me, but I am.” Her eyes blazed and her hands curled into excited fists.

  Her enthusiasm infected him with the heady, but oh-so-nefariously-spontaneous Zoey virus. Whenever he was around her, he felt enlivened the same way he did when a dig yielded a find—fevered, intense, trenchant.

  “I picked up my love of it from you,” she said. “You’re quite irresistible when you talk archaeology.”

  “I am?”

  “Totally. Why do you think I changed my major for the fourth time? Your love of archaeology won me over in spite of everyone telling me it’s a hard career to make a living in.”

  “Not if you’re devoted to it.”

  She winced. “I guess that’s another reason everyone discouraged me. Devotion has never been my strong suit.”

  “But you really want this?”

  “I do.”

  A cowboy sauntered by with a plate of cake. Zoey’s gaze followed him. The cowboy paused and winked at her. So much for her undivided attention.

  Jericho knotted a fist against his thigh, bit the inside of his cheek. “Not him.”

  “I just realized something,” she said, her attention shifting from the cowboy to the buffet.

  “What’s that?”

  “Walker’s cake is half chocolate. C’mon, let’s go get some before it’s all gone.” She hopped off the stool and took off, leaving him little choice but to follow.

  Chapter 4

  Attribute: A characteristic such as color or measurement of length or width.

  EAGER to have something to do besides think about the way Jericho was affecting her, Zoey had already sliced and plated two pieces of cake—chocolate for her, vanilla for him, by the time he reached the buffet table. The way he’d been looking at her all evening unnerved her. Whenever his gaze lingered on hers, there was a spark in his eyes that she’d never seen before.

  Worse, her body responded to his heated looks like a flower to the sun. Her nipples tightened and her skin prickled and a squirmy sensation took root low in her belly. She’d used the excuse of chocolate cake to put some distance between them, at least momentarily, until she could regain her equilibrium.

  She couldn’t resist glancing adroitly at him from beneath her lashes. In his faded Wranglers, worn cowboy boots, yoked shirt the color of claret, with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscle-corded forearms; he looked more cowboy than scientist. No denying it, his eyes were caressing her.

  Her pulse sprinted and she felt brilliantly
bright and unsettlingly powerful. Was she imagining it or had something monumental shifted in their relationship since his return? But how? And why? More importantly, what did it mean?

  His hot gaze gobbled her up and her bones liquefied.

  Quickly, she turned, and cake in hand, sailed over to Walker. “You remember Jericho.” Zoey nodded toward him as he came to stand beside her. “He just got his PhD in anthropology to go with his master’s degree in archaeology.”

  Walker shook Jericho’s hand. “Of course, Craig and Angie Chance’s boy. Are you home to stay?”

  “Depends. I’m waiting to see if I get hired at the Center for Big Bend Studies,” Jericho said.

  “You’ll get the job. They’d be foolish not to hire homegrown talent.” Walker shifted his weight.

  “If he gets it, he’ll be teaching the field school this summer.” Zoey swallowed a bite of cake and her pride. It was embarrassing having to ask a trustee for money. “You know, that’s where archaeology students learn how to conduct digs and I was hoping to take the course, but that means I’ll need—”

  Walker held up his palm. “Let me just stop you right there, Zoey.”

  Her stomach sank. He was going to say no. She brightened her smile, widened her eyes, and just kept talking. Power through. “I know you weren’t going to give me any more money until September, but I won’t be able to participate in the field school unless I can come up with two thousand dollars. I really did try to stick to the budget you put me on, but I had some unexpected expenses.”

  Walker lowered his head and looked over the rim of his glasses at her. “Zoey, there’s a reason your grandfather Raymond left me in charge of your trust. You’re irresponsible with money.”

  “But this is for my education.”

  “Do you want me to break it down for you exactly how much money you’ve blown on college? You’ve changed your major four times, and now archaeology? Do you know how impractical that degree is? It’s little more than interesting cocktail party conversation starter.” Walker shifted his gaze to Jericho. “No offense to you intended. You’re a different story. You have your doctorate and you’re a dedicated scholar, you will be successful at this career, but we all know Zoey is never going to do anything with it. She’s a dabbler. She needs to settle down, take hold, get a regular job or get married and start having babies. She’s wasted enough time and money in school, delaying growing up.”

  That same horrible feeling of worthlessness and shame that she’d felt when she stood outside the door of the community center hit her squarely in the solar plexus. Ooph. She set down the cake, put a hand to her stomach.

  “I have to disagree with you there, Dr. McCleary,” Jericho interjected. “Yes, Zoey has tried a few different career tracks to see which ones fit, but you have to appreciate that she’s young and has a vibrant mind. I really do believe she’s found her niche and she’ll finish her degree and give archaeology her all.” His eyes were bright and sharp, as if he truly believed what he was saying.

  Zoey’s heart fluttered. Ahh, he was taking up for her. How sweet. Jericho was her hero.

  He stepped closer, put a hand to her back, whispered against her ear, “Don’t back down.”

  His warm breath sent a sweet shiver sliding down her spine. Briefly, she closed her eyes. Gotta stop feeling this way. It’s not smart.

  Walker studied Jericho speculatively. “You think I should throw good money after bad?”

  “I’m saying give her a chance to prove herself.”

  Walker folded his arms over his chest. “She’s had numerous chances.”

  “She deserves one more.” Jericho held Walker’s stare.

  “Please,” Zoey wheedled, surprised to realize how much she wanted this.

  Walker rubbed his mustache with a thumb and index finger.

  Zoey batted her eyes and linked her arm through Walker’s. Okay, yes, maybe it was manipulative, but charm rarely failed her. “I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”

  “As much as that mini-bike you just had to have?” Walker’s tone went flat.

  Her face heated. Rubbing her jaw, she winced. Walker bought the mini-bike for her thirteenth birthday, most likely because her relatives on the Fant side of the family had refused to do so. She’d smashed the banana yellow Bonanza into a mesquite tree after her boy cousins had challenged her to a race. She’d seen the tree coming and tried to veer out of the way, but her cousins had her hemmed in. She could have jumped off. She should have jumped off. Every cell in her body had screamed at her to jump off, but she’d been determined she could keep up with the boys. She’d broken her jaw during the accident and her teeth had been wired shut for weeks, which had been the worst thing of all for a motor mouth.

  “Why didn’t you jump off?” the doctor asked. “You wouldn’t have been injured this badly if you’d bailed out.”

  After that incident, she vowed to always follow her instincts. Now look where following her instincts had gotten her. Everyone believing she was a noncommittal flake who couldn’t stick with anything. Well, she was determined to prove them all wrong. If Walker wouldn’t give her the money, she’d find some other way to get it.

  “All right,” Walker relented. “Because of Jericho’s belief in you, I’ll give you the money—”

  “Woot!” Zoey exclaimed, and threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Walker, thank you so much!”

  “But wait,” he said. “Calm down.”

  That was always hard for her to do. She stepped back, took a deep breath. “Trying.”

  “There’s a big stipulation, so I want you to think long and hard before you agree.”

  “Wh …” She cleared her throat, straightened her spine. “What is it?”

  “You have to stay with this dig, no flaking out and quitting when you get bored. Prove to me that you can settle on something and stick with it or—”

  “I can do it,” she interrupted. “I want to do it.”

  “That’s never stopped you from losing interest before. In fact, you’re not even letting me finish my sentence.”

  “Okay, I’ll shut up.” She plastered a palm over her mouth.

  “If you take the money and don’t finish the dig, then I’m cutting off your trust.”

  “Completely? As in—”

  “Turning it all over to charity.”

  “Forever?”

  “That’s what I’m saying.”

  Zoey’s eyes grew wide. Alarm ripped through her. “You have the power to do that?”

  “Not only do I have the power, but I can and I will. It’s written in the trust agreement. Make up your mind once and for all. Finish the dig or you’re completely broke.”

  CUPID’S REST BED-AND-BREAKFAST was on the opposite side of Lake Cupid from Chantilly’s Marina Bar and less than half a mile away. The night was warm and the stars were out, the moon nothing more than a sly Mona Lisa smile halfway up the sky.

  Hypnotized, Jericho watched her skip down the steps ahead of him, following the well-worn walking path that skirted the lake. The potent feelings he’d been trying to squash all evening swelled inside him like a living animal, clawing and fighting against his self-control. No matter how objective he tried to be, he was still a man, vulnerable to the allure of an attractive woman, just like any other guy. Of course, he’d lusted after women before, but nothing like this, nothing so primal, so basically male. He wanted Zoey and he wanted her this second.

  If another man had chosen this unlucky moment to approach her, he wouldn’t have hesitated to toss him into the lake. What was happening to him? Where was this coming from? Why the growling Neanderthal impulses? How had he been able to simply be friends with her all these years, but now he didn’t have a friendly thought in his brain? Not when it came to Zoey.

  “Be careful in the dark,” he called, but his warning came too late.

  Her heel must have snagged on something because unexpectedly she spun, stumbled, and if he hadn’t taken two long-legged s
trides to catch up to her, she would have fallen.

  His arm went around her. She let out a gasp.

  “Gotcha,” he said softly, and righted her so that she was facing him.

  In spite of almost having fallen, she looked supple and graceful with the wind rippling the silky material of her blouse and her soft, wide mouth pursed so fetchingly. Her light brown hair tumbling about her shoulders, her inquisitive eyes simultaneously quick and easygoing. Her pupils dilated and she darted out that sweet pink tongue to lick her lips shiny.

  Christ, she looked like a pinup.

  Mere inches separated them. His hand was on her elbow. Their chests were almost touching, her breasts rising and falling at a staggering pace.

  “You okay?” he asked. Somehow both his hands were now resting on her shoulders. She gulped so forcefully that he could see the muscles in her throat work. What a long, lovely neck. His mouth burned to taste it.

  “Uh-huh,” she whispered.

  “You’ve got to learn to slow down and take your time,” he murmured, and lowered his eyelids. “Unless you’ve got a fire to put out.”

  “Maybe I do.” Her gaze fixed on his lips, before flicking up to lock onto his. “Have a fire to put out, that is.”

  How quickly he’d gotten in over his head. He should have known better than to quip with a master. He wondered how other men defended themselves against her quick wit. They probably were so busy drooling over her and calculating the odds of getting her into bed that they didn’t even bother. His stomach clenched.

  “Do you remember this spot?” she asked.

  How could he forget? It was where they’d stood the time she’d kissed him. They were finally going to talk about this? Should he admit that he did remember, or deny it? What was the best course of action? Uncertain, he nodded, barely.

  “Wasn’t that stupid of me?” She laughed low and gruff. “Kissing you like that. What was I thinking?”

  “Neither one of us was doing much thinking that night.” He grunted. “We’d been celebrating your birthday.”