Love Has The Best Intentions (4 page)

Zach immediately called time out and helped
Becca up from her sprawled position on the floor. “Do I still have
my ear?” she asked in plaintive tones.

Her teammates all groaned in unison and Zach
winced. “You’re not quite up to this level of play, are you?” he
asked, his voice quiet amid the mutters from the others.

Becca could only offer a feeble smile If only
she were Alice in Wonderland and simply by eating a magic cake, she
could shrink down to invisibility and escape the hostile glares of
those around her.

Zach whirled and called the other team
captain over for a conference. Becca stood apart from the others
and watched as they discussed her fate.

“Either she plays or you forfeit.” The man
sent a malicious grin in Becca’s direction as he spoke.

Zach spent a few minutes in futile argument
before returning to his team. “You heard the verdict. They’re going
to hardnose it.” He looked at Becca. “I know you lack the
experience at this level of play, so are you going give it a try or
shall we all go home? I warn you, it’s very easy for an
inexperienced player to get hurt. These guys and gals play
rough.”

Zach had taken the noble route, leaving the
decision up to her. Becca gritted her teeth with determination. If
she’d only stuck to one form of exercise instead of flitting around
like a butterfly, she wouldn’t be in this mess.

“I’ll play,” she announced with false
bravado, adding under her breath, “Then I’ll hunt down the woman
who let me sign up to be a duck in a shooting gallery and ask for a
refund.”

The games were a nightmarish hail of
volleyballs as big as basketballs with all serves and spikes aimed
at Becca. She ducked and lunged while her teammates performed
miraculous leaps and dives around her cringing form. Her only
attempt at hitting the ball resulted in two painfully jammed
fingers.

Sheer terror sent perspiration running down
her face and plastered her tee-shirt against her torso. She knew
the eye make-up she’d applied with such care must be a streaky
mess. The hands of the huge clock on the wall crept while her own
hands did their best to protect her from a Six-Pack, which she’d
learned meant getting a volleyball spike in the face and had
nothing to do with Zach’s abdomen.

Zach stood the hero test, never once adding
to the jeers or scowls aimed in her direction, doing his best to
keep her from getting hit and deflecting the ball even though it
often appeared out of his reach.

At last the ordeal ended. Stumbling off the
court on shaky legs, Becca gathered from her teammates’ comments as
they changed shoes and packed up their gear that they had managed
to win only one game. No one said good-bye.

The women’s locker room did not offer an
escape from the hostile atmosphere. Becca stayed only long enough
to wash the make-up from her face and winced at her reflection.
Skin still blotchy from the combination of exercise and
embarrassment, wisps of sweat soaked hair plastered to her face.
Ugh! An inventory of her bruised hands also disclosed several
broken fingernails. Wondering what other disaster could strike to
end such a perfect evening, Becca shoved the locker room door open
and into a solid object.

“Excuse me,” she snapped to the man standing
there and stalked off to locate a garbage disposal and shred her
membership card.

He followed. “Wait a minute, please. It’s
Becca, not Becky, isn’t it?”

She whirled to see Zach offering a sweet
smile.
So he knows who you are. But folks also remember the
Titanic and the Hindenburg
, she cautioned herself and nodded
without stopping.

“Hey, Becca, wait up! I just wanted to tell
you how much I admire your courage in playing. We’d have had to
swallow every game as a loss if you’d left when you had the chance.
We need every win to keep us in competition for our division.”

Courage? Since when was ducking, quivering
and sweating defined as bravery? Becca found herself smiling back.
He really had the most gorgeous navy blue eyes ...

Fifteen minutes later found Becca and Zach in
the juice bar of The Fitness Studio. Zach had selected a carrot and
tomato swirl while Becca sipped a banana-apricot fizz.

Zach chuckled when he learned the meager
extent of Becca’s volleyball experience. “Despite everything, you
showed promise,” he assured her. “You stayed in the rotation and
even tried to hit one or two. It’ll just take a little proper
instruction before you could play on a team.”

Shuddering from the thought of even going
near a volleyball court again, she balanced that terror against the
fear of never seeing Zach again. “Proper instruction?”

“Proper private instruction.” Zach grinned
wickedly. “Our team needs an alternate. Why don’t we discuss ways
to get you up to speed over dinner on Sunday?”

Becca choked on the fizz in her drink.
“Dinner?”

‘Hey, I’ve still got to shower and change
before they start turning off the lights and we’ve a lot left to
talk about. As we haven’t been properly introduced, I could bring
references to my trustworthy character, if it would favorably
influence your decision.”

“People can be bribed to lie,” Becca said
with a smile.

“I’m great with mothers—you could introduce
me to yours.”

Beeca raised an eyebrow. “She’s on a ten day
cruise to Alaska.”

Zach flicked a napkin across the table and it
landed in Becca’s lap. “New plan—if you want to play it cautious,
we could meet at the restaurant.”

They agreed to meet at the Doodlebug, which
attempted to recreate the ambiance of the dance clubs of the 30’s
and 40’s, complete with movie posters and a jukebox filled with
vintage big band tunes.

Becca changed her mind about keeping the date
on the average of ten times an hour over the next two days. Only
the fact she’d failed to get his phone number kept her from
cancelling.

As Becca entered the Doodlebug, her stomach
flip-flopped with nerves. Three agonizing hours of standing in her
walk-in closet had resulted in the choice of a pleated skirt and a
pink flowered blouse.

Zach waited just inside the door,
appropriately enough, under a poster for the movie, “Casablanca”.
The dark blue shirt under his sports jacket matched his amazing
eyes. Becca made the snap judgment that she’d take Zach’s warm
smile over Humphrey Bogart’s smoldering stare at Ingrid any
day.

Even with reservations, they had a long wait
but were finally seated near the raised dance floor. On the way to
their table, Zach and Becca pointed out their favorite posters.
Becca favored Fred and Ginger floating in each other’s arms in “Top
Hart”, while Zach leaned toward “The Thin Man” with William Powell
and Myrna Loy menaced by a trench coated figure. As they studied
the posters for “42
^nd
Street”, “Gone with the Wind” and
“Gaslight”, the couples on the dance floor spun past to the
toe-tapping beat of Benny Goodman.

Neither could resist the tantalizing rhythm
of “Swing, Swing, Swing” when it blared from the jukebox. Zach held
out his hand and Becca took it with confidence. Although clumsy on
the volleyball court, she was at home on the dance floor and the
two kept it up until their food arrived, whirling back to the
table, breathless with laughter.

The waiter’s frown seemed to indicate
disapproval that they were more absorbed in each other than in the
food served. As the conversation continued, they discovered common
interests in black and white movies, photography and the St. Paul
Saints baseball team.

Becca had never felt so at ease with and yet
so attracted to a man. The little frown between his brows as he
pondered a response had her struggling with the urge to reach out
and smooth it away with her fingertips.

The question currently on the table was
Becca’s. “Do you believe the theory that people who enjoy black and
white movies are escapists? Wanting to move back to a simpler, more
uncomplicated time?”

The adorable frown appeared again. “No, I
don’t agree,” Zach replied. “Many of the black and white films did
address relevant social problems, such as child abuse, racial
prejudice, poverty and war. Even though for the most part they
featured happy endings, it doesn’t make their points any less
valid. It’s only human to want everything to come up roses.”

The waiter coughed apologetically as he
presented the bill. “Excuse me, sir. I hate to interrupt, but there
are other people who have reservations for this table.”

Zach looked at his watch in disbelief. “We’ve
been sitting here for nearly three hours!”

“There’s a bridge over the stream behind the
restaurant,” the waiter, who apparently concealed a romantic soul
under a bushy white moustache, offered in discreet whisper.
“Perhaps a stroll in the moonlight would help settle the meal
...”

Water murmured over the stones in the
streambed as Zach and Becca walked out onto the wooden planks. The
moon made its promised appearance from behind the clouds, casting
shadows across Zach’s rugged features and dappling the leaves of a
nearby birch tree. Mallard ducks, connecting humans with bread
crumbs, paddled gently below, craning their necks upward for the
first hint of food.

Zach put his hands on Becca’s arms and turned
her to face him. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, she wondered
if Zach could hear her heart beating over the sound of the rushing
water.

An impatient quack sounded from below. Zach
grinned. “Keep your tail feathers on, fella,” he murmured. “I’m
going to kiss the lady.”

The kiss and his embrace felt marvelously
sweet, but Becca drew back. Things seemed to be moving too
swiftly—new passions gripped her, tugged at her heart like the
current below. She clutched the material of Zach’s jacket for
support, feeling the muscles in his arms tense at her touch.

He broke the spell, turning to lean on the
railing of the bridge. “You overwhelm me, Becca. When I hold you, I
can feel the breath in your body. I have the feeling that I want to
hold you forever—let you live in my arms. They feel so empty
without you.”

Becca placed her hand on his shoulder. “I
want to try that kiss again before committing myself,” she
whispered back.

Their lips met and the moon shivered in
delight.

Only a heartbeat later, Zach glanced at his
watch. “Do you realize it’s nearly midnight? And as much as I hate
to leave you, my alarm is going to ring in six hours.”

“Let it ring. What about your empty arms?”
Becca murmured, kissing his ear lobe.

He chuckled. “One more kiss, darling. One
more to sustain me through the hard day’s night.”

Several kisses later, as he escorted Becca to
her car, Zach brought up the reason for their first meeting. “Are
you interested in a couple of volleyball lessons?”

She shook her head. “I’ve learned my lesson,
thank you!”

He took her hand in a warm, possessive clasp.
“Forget volleyball, but I want to see you again, Becca. You’re so
different from any other woman I’ve dated.”

Different? Different as in chubby—out of
shape? Images of the tanned and trim women who lived at the Fitness
Studio shimmered before Becca’s eyes. She yanked her hand free and
slid behind the wheel, leaving the door and her options open.

“What’s wrong, darling?” It would have taken
a man with the hide of a rhinoceros not to feel the sudden
chill.

She decided to be blunt. If honesty scared
Zach off, she didn’t want to pursue the relationship any further
and she needed an answer. “Exactly why do you want to see me again?
Let’s face it, this is not the body of an athlete and it probably
never will be. Why don’t you go after the other women at the
Fitness Studio—some pretty terrific bodies hang out there.”

“Let’s not complicate matters. I want to see
you again because I’m attracted to you.”

Becca looked down at the hands folded in her
lap. Traitorous hands, aching to ruffle the smoothness of Zach’s
hair. “Thank you for dinner. I had a lovely time.”

“Don’t give me that ‘lovely time’ stuff! We
had a definite spark going—if not a full-scale blaze. Look me in
the eye and deny it if you can!”

He tilted up her chin in an abrupt movement,
but his voice softened. “Becca, where did you get the idea I’d only
be attracted by the outer wrappings? Hasn’t the fact that we’ve
talked non-stop for hours meant anything to you? I want more in a
relationship than someone who works out three times a day and can
beat me in arm wrestling whenever she feels like it.”

Her look of disbelief goaded him on. “I’m
thirty years old and it’s time to get married and raise a family. I
want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who can talk
intelligently about world hunger, her career—anything but the
number of laps she swims daily or her calorie count.”

His impassioned response frightened Becca
into taking refuge in flippancy. “Marriage? Aren’t you’re rushing
things a little?”

“Perhaps, but I don’t want your insecurities
standing between us Haven’t you felt the electricity? We fit—we
generate the same excitement as the great screen couples, Bogart
and Bacall, Gable and Lombard, Tracy and Hepburn ...”

Becca couldn’t help herself. “Laurel and
Hardy?”

Zach’s jaw dropped. Bowing his head into his
hands, he slumped against the car, shaking with helpless laughter.
“Need you ask what I see in you, Becca?” Sobering, he brushed a
curl back from her cheek. “Give us a chance, please?”

The tender appeal in his voice melted the
protective barrier of reserve she had kept between them. “I guess I
don’t know what I’m searching for in a relationship, Zach. Do
you?”

“I want something spontaneous, one where our
lives don’t revolve around workouts and tanning booths. I want
someone who can drop everything for a picnic in the country, laugh
at a silly riddle or sit down with me and enjoy The Maltese Falcon
without worrying about missing her aerobics class. I want to be
part of a couple—a couple whose two parts make a perfect
whole.”