A - Immortal Sea

know him. You don‟t see him as an individual yet.”

“Of course he is an individual. I only have one son.”

“Listen to yourself. „One son.‟ „The boy.‟ He has a name. You could try using it occasionally.”

He stared at her, oddly discomfited. Had he ever called the boy by name? He could not remember. Was not sure why he

should care.

She cared. Elizabeth. Her passion lit her from the inside until she glowed with maternal warmth and anger. Vibrant.

Desirable. Dangerous.

To distract her, to indulge himself, he moved in, nudging her back against the sink. “Zachary,” he said deliberately. He put

his hands on the counter, caging her hips, watching the wild beat of her pulse under her jaw. “Elizabeth.”

Lowering his face to her neck, he breathed her in, the sharp notes of her irritation, the sweetness of her arousal. He eased

forward, teasing her with the brush of his body, letting her feel how she affected him.

“Satisfied?” he taunted against her throat.

She inhaled sharply, her breasts rising, and he raised his head and took her open mouth. He felt a flash of heat, of triumph,

of delicious friction, before her fingers tightened on his arms and she bit his lower lip. Hard.

His head jerked back. Snarling, he met her gaze.

Her eyes were dark and dilated, her mouth resolute. He was confident enough of her, of his own skill and experience, to

believe he could still have her. He almost lunged again for her mouth.

But she stopped him, slapping her palm against his chest. “My satisfaction isn‟t the issue. This is about Zack. He comes

first.”

Of course the boy came first. Morgan would not still be here on this island otherwise.

He leaned back slightly, his lip throbbing, his body tight. “So?”

“So.” Her breath escaped in a short, explosive puff.

“Any personal relationship between us, any physical relationship, complicates things.”

Impatience licked him. “Without our physical relationship, the . . . Zachary,” he said carefully, “would not exist.”

“As far as you‟re concerned, he didn‟t exist. Not until a few days ago.”

“And you hold that against me. Would use that against me.”

She opened her mouth to deny it. “Pretty much.”

Surprise held him momentarily speechless. Surprise and respect.

“It‟s not like you have this great track record of sticking around,” she continued. “Until I‟m sure you won‟t hurt Zack, it‟s

better if we take things slowly. Our relationship begins and ends with him.”

Strong words. She was a strong woman.

But not, he thought, invulnerable. He surveyed her face. Her gaze was clear and fearless, her cheeks flushed with what

might have been anger. But beneath the angle of her outthrust jaw, he caught again that tiny, betraying flutter of her pulse.

“Is it the boy you‟re protecting?” he murmured. “Or yourself?”

Liz‟s heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest.

“Is it the boy you’re protecting? Or yourself?”

Both, she thought desperately.

“Zack, of course.”

Well, it was half true, wasn‟t it? She nudged Morgan out of the way with her hip and opened the freezer door. She needed

to get a grip on the situation and herself. “The kids are waiting for their dessert. Why don‟t you carry the ice cream out there

while I make coffee?”

She thrust the carton at him.

His brows flickered upward. “You trust me alone with your children?”

Not really. But she trusted herself alone with him even less.

“I think you can deal with each other unsupervised for a few minutes,” she said, her tone as dry as his.

She spooned coffee into a paper filter, trying to ignore the pounding in her blood and the trembling of her hands. She was

not the kind of woman who quaked with lust. Not usually. Not since Copenhagen.

Maybe stress and deprivation were finally getting to her.

Or maybe Morgan was.

He set the ice cream on the counter and came up behind her, moving silently and too close. “I am not finished. I want you.”

Her breath backed up in her throat.

“First lesson in parenting.” She flipped the switch on the coffeemaker and turned, leading with her elbow. He stepped back,

avoiding a jab to his ribs. “What you want doesn‟t come first anymore.”

It was a good exit line. She grabbed four bowls and a handful of spoons and beat a retreat toward the dining room and

safety.

Emily leaned her head on her wrist, plowing tunnels through her rice and peas.

Zack‟s place was empty. Of course. She should have known he‟d escape from the table the minute her back was turned.

“Zack!” she called up the stairs. “Ice cream.”

No answer.

“Sulking,” Morgan observed.

“Regrouping,” Liz corrected. “It‟s been quite a day.”

For all of them. And it wasn‟t over yet.

“Em, would you go upstairs and tell Zack it‟s time for dessert?”

Emily‟s small face was tense, her gaze fixed on her plate. “He isn‟t there.”

She pressed her lips together in annoyance. “Well, wherever he is, can you tell him—”

Emily looked up, her big eyes wide and clouded. “He went out.”

A feeling tickled the back of Liz‟s neck like a spider crawling along her hair line. “Out where?”

Emily twisted, looking over her shoulder toward the front door.

“Beneath the wave,” Morgan said.

“What?”

His face was grim. “I will go after him.”

Liz quelled her unease. His urgency was infectious, but there was no point in overreacting. “That‟s not necessary. He‟s

fifteen. It‟s still light out. How much trouble can he . . .” Her voice trailed off.

Morgan met her gaze. “Precisely.”

Her heart hammered. “I‟ll call his cell phone.”

“Do as you wish. I am going to find him.”

“You can‟t. He left because of you.”

Because he was hurting, angry, and confused, questioned by the police and confronted with his biological father. And she‟d

told him to get a job. She winced.

“You give him too much credit,” Morgan said. “I doubt he is capable of rational thought. He is a young, rebellious male.

He runs on instinct.”

“Runs where?” She knelt by her daughter‟s chair. “Em, honey, did Zack say anything about where he was going? When

he‟s coming back?”

Emily‟s lip trembled. She shook her head.

Liz strode to the living room and dug in her bag for her phone.

Morgan followed. “I need something that belongs to him. Something he sleeps with or wears next to his skin.”

She lowered the phone from her ear. “Why?”

“You are wasting time.” Morgan‟s gaze was cool and implacable. “Get it, please.”

“I‟m not going to . . . We don‟t need search dogs. Or psychics.” With relief, she heard the connection to Zack‟s cell phone

go through. But the call switched over instantly to voice mail. Her stomach hollowed.

Emily‟s sandals slapped as she ran upstairs. Upset, Liz thought.

She swallowed her worry and anger, struggled to keep her voice calm. “Zack, this is Mom.”

She left a message, flipped her phone shut. She needed to check on Em. But even as she headed for the hall, her daughter

reappeared in the entrance to the living room, hugging a pillow to her waist.

“Your brother‟s?” Morgan asked.

The little girl nodded.