Encore 7

"You can't kill my husband," she instructed, pausing to take a drag on her cigarette. The skinhead standing in front of her watched as she blew a plume of smoke from her ruby red lips.

"She has a tender streak, after all," he complained in a mock-plaintive tone. She slapped away the finger that stroked her full lower lip.

"Focus," she snapped. "I want that bastard crippled, do you understand? I want him useless to that home-wrecking slut! And when she does leave him, maybe I'll put him out of his misery myself!"

"I take it back." The man gave her a grin of malevolent approval. He stepped closer to her in the dank cellar. "You're a little worse than I am."

She turned away in disdain. "Let's discuss payment."

He rubbed his unshaven jaw as he contemplated the sumptuous curves of her body. "Let's."

Without warning, he lunged for her. He smothered her startled scream with a greasy, tattooed hand. Her struggles were met with a cruel laugh as he pressed her to his beefy body.

"Hell yeah, I knew you'd be a fighter! Come on, give me all you've got, bitch!"

He uncovered her mouth in the same instant as he forced a sloppy kiss on her. She beat at his shoulders with less and less fury, until she began to respond in a sexual manner.

Eventually, her hands clasped his face to hers and her bruised lips kissed him back with equal violence. At the very end, she even moaned, and then:

"Cut!"

Zandra Halissey stepped back from her character's attacker and turned her back to him. She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks and closed her eyes, willing herself out of the spell.

"Was that a moan I heard?" A thick arm slid around her waist but this time it was non-threatening.

She turned to face him again. "I was running out of air, Coby. It wasn't a moan."

"It was," Karen, the show's producer, chirped as she walked by them.

Zandra scowled. "It was not."

"Hey everybody," Coby bellowed to the set at large. "Did I get a moan out of her or didn't I?"

"Hell to the yes!"

"Sure did."

"Everybody heard."

Zandra, usually such a good sport in the face of the crew's friendly teasing, now stormed off the set. The crowing replies turned to stunned silence. While there was a certain reserve about her, Zandra was nothing like the icy bitch she played.

Her raging success playing Cassidy Lash, a fiery character the nation loved to hate, had seen her go from a walk-on role to a special guest star billing. None of it had fazed her. She remained as always friendly, professional if a touch mysterious.

Within sight of her dressing room, Zandra almost broke into a run but right then, two hands grabbed her shoulders and halted her.

"What's going on with you, Zandra?" Coby asked, his gruff voice gentle.

She whirled around and faced him with stormy jewel-green eyes and replied in a loud voice, "Nothing, Coby, I just wanna be alone."

"Is this because I teased you about the moaning? Because you know I didn't mean-"

"Yes, I know," she interrupted. Later she would apologize for her rudeness, but for now she was just desperate to be alone.

Coby Fletcher was not the thin-skinned type, though. "Look, how about we do it again?" he suggested with a mischievous grin. "And this time, I'll do the moaning."

In spite of herself, Zandra's lips curved in a reluctant smile.

"Tempting, but I'll be fine. I've just got to get out of here for a few-"

"Sweetie, are you alright?"

She almost grit her teeth in frustration but she managed to give the director bursting in on them a polite smile. "Yeah, Hunter, I'm fine. But listen, can I get a break for a couple of hours?"

"Honey, you've been giving your all since six this morning. Of course you can go, come back tomorrow."

"Thanks, Hunt, you're the best."

Zandra then fluttered her fingers goodbye at Coby and before either man could say something else, she had fled into her room and shut the door. Once inside, her eyes fell on the imitation Ming vase that held the flowers that had arrived two days before. Yellow tulips, her favorite.

But her pleasure at the gift had been irreparably marred by the card.

"No matter what I do, I can't forget you. You'll always be a part of me. Linc."

Lincoln Gage. The only man who could ruin yellow tulips for a girl.

* * *

Determined not to sink into depression over a past failed relationship, Zandra took to the road. She had no destination in mind, she drove for the sheer freedom of it. The weather was gloomy and overcast, making the late afternoon darker than usual. It suited her mood.

She had thought the ride aimless... until she found herself pulling into the driveway of the beach house her mother had left her. The place where her teenage self had promised Linc her love forever. It was because of such memories that she hadn't been here once in the years since her mother had died.

Zandra got out of her silver Beamer after a moment. Slipping out of her high-heeled sandals, she walked past the rambling bungalow and its immaculate gardens to the beach.

The ocean was rough and choppy, reflecting the steely hue of the sky above. Her flame-gold hair, whipping about her petite frame in the high wind, was the only color in the world of gray around her.

The constant unrest of the ocean seemed to resonate with an inner disturbance and she let herself become entranced by its motion. Her silvery long dress was flimsy protection against the cold. She hugged her waist and rubbed her arms but would not, could not leave this spot.

"You shouldn't be out here in this weather."

That long-unheard voice would always be familiar to her ears. She jumped, even before his hand fell to her shoulder.

Zandra spun around, knocking away his dark caramel wrist as she faced him.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, incredulity making her go breathless.

"Same thing as you, I imagine," Linc drawled, taking a step back. "Taking a stroll down memory lane. First time I've had company, though."

"Oh, I'm not company," Zandra refuted, her voice shaking with emotion. "I'm the woman who's about to have your ass arrested for trespassing!"

He seemed unfazed though a weary look entered his olive green eyes. "A little thankless, all things considered," he replied.

Her jaw went slack. "And what exactly do I have to be thankful to you for?"

"Look around you, Zandra. If I'm not wrong, you abandoned this place and haven't been back since your mother died. Who do you think's kept it in order?"

She refused to look away from his face, but the image of the well-tended gardens returned full blown to her mind. The little pathway, too, had shown a marked dearth of weeds in between the stones, but none of it had registered in her distracted state. The place really should have been a wasteland; that it wasn't showed deliberate effort on someone's part.

"So what if you did?" Zandra asked more calmly but with no less steel. "You think that gives you some right to force yourself where you're not wanted?"

"Not at all, Zandra," Linc sighed. "But I was hoping it's worth at least one civil cup of coffee."

There was a brief silence as she stared at him as if he'd gone crazy. Scorn and disbelief filled her, holding her speechless.

Her expression goaded Linc to fury. That this woman, who had once looked at him with undying adoration, should now regard him as though he had crawled from a sewer made something inside him snap.

"You hate me, Zandra? Huh? You still wanna scream at me? You wanna curse me out and slap me raw?" Linc demanded with such heat that it made her shrink ever so slightly from him. He spread his arms. "Well, now's your chance, Zandra. Here I am! Make me pay for every bit of pain I ever caused you!"

The sheer arrogance of that statement lay in the assumption that she could! How was she supposed to pay him back for walking out on their love and promises, youthful but heartfelt, to each other? How was she to avenge the weeks she had spent in a disconsolate torpor, catatonic with grief after learning of her pregnancy and miscarrying all in the same day?

But he did not even know of the miscarriage. No one except her mother had known. By then, Linc had already flown off to Switzerland with his Ursula. From the first moment she had seen the gorgeous blonde with Linc, Zandra had known she would come between them. She'd been right. And she could rail at him for that.

But would it be fair to blame the worst of her pain on him, when he might be just as hurt by the loss? When he might, in fact, hold it against her for keeping it from him? For the first time, the secret caused her a prickle of unease.

Frowning, Zandra averted her emerald gaze and shook her head slightly in confusion.

"Go on, Zandra, hurt me," Linc goaded, his voice raw. "Hit me with everything you got!"

"Stop it," she whispered as she stared at the sea. She could see thousands of tiny ripples in the water caused by raindrops, rain that was headed their way. She swung her hard gaze back at him. "Just stop it, Linc!"

"Why? You don't believe I've been hurting all these years! Oh no, I haven't suffered, so why not square things off once and for all?"

She ran a hand through her hair as she issued a pensive sigh.

"Must I do it out here, in the cold and rain? Or do I at least get to pick the venue?"

Linc looked up from her lovely apathetic face then cursed as, all at once, they were lashed by angry rain. Resisting an almost ungovernable urge to haul her off her feet and carry her in his arms, he followed her small form through the rain towards the house.

Linc berated himself for picking such a lousy moment to vent his frustrations. If he'd kept his cool, he'd have gotten her to shelter before she got soaked. Her thin dress was already drenched when they climbed up the porch.

"I have the keys to the front door," Zandra said in the same listless tone. "They're in my car-"

"No, they're not." Linc reached into his pocket and produced a bunch of keys. She lifted a skeptical brow as he jammed one into the keyhole. He responded with a tight smile.

"I had the locks changed years ago," he confessed. At her thunderous expression he nodded, "I know. It's presumptuous and invasive and I had no right. But I think it was worth it."

He turned the key and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted Zandra's eyes took her breath as well as all the fight out of her.

It was all her mother's furniture and décor, a little worn with age but in far better condition than she'd left it. Gone were the stains on the fabrics, the dust, the soot staining the wall near the fireplace. He had tended the place, but had largely left it untouched.

Blinking back a sudden mistiness in her eyes, she murmured, "I... I don't know what to say. It's..."

When her voice trailed off he took her hand and placed the keys in her palm.

"It's yours. I'm done torturing myself with this place."

Stung by something in his manner, she lashed out, "I guess it can't compete with all the places your Swiss mistress took you, can it?"

"Don't do that," Linc gritted out, his eyes cold enough to freeze. "You know it was nothing like that!"

"Do I?"

"I ended things between us, true. But it wasn't so I could run around with someone else! I thought going to Europe was the right move for my career-"

"You thought I would hold you back," she corrected with acid precision. He stared at her, nostrils flaring, but could not deny it.

"I apologized for that," he fumed finally. "About a thousand times already but it was never enough for you."

"It still isn't!"

Despair flashed across his handsome face then was gone. Zandra steeled herself against the senseless sympathy that now assailed her. Had she not pleaded with him in tears not to leave her? Had she not felt far worse agony for the past seven years? So why couldn't she stomach the thought of Linc being torn apart that way?

Zandra turned to hide her trembling lip from him. "It doesn't matter," she murmured.

"I hope, for your sake," Linc replied with dry humor, "that you mean it. I know how hard I've tried to tell myself our history doesn't matter, and it still knocks me on my ass every time."

She had no answer for his candor. She watched in silence as he moved to the fireplace. He was no longer the gangly, long-legged youth she had once known, he'd filled out into a tall, rangy man. But he still shaved his head bald and still moved with a panther's grace. She barely noticed when the fire roared to life, so focused was she on the sensuous fluidity of his movements.

Linc turned and beckoned to her. She came nearer until she felt the comfortable heat chase away the chill of her body. It occurred to her that she should change out of her wet clothes. The instant she thought of undressing in front of Linc, a blazing heat swept her through body that had nothing to do with the fire.

He still affected her. Even after all these years, he still made her weak in the knees. Zandra bowed her head into her hands, squeezed her eyes shut and listened to the howl of the wind and the incessant patter of the rain on the roof and windows.

She then felt his hands on her arms, his touch feather-light. She thought she felt a kiss dust her hair but could not be certain.

Linc?" she called softly on impulse.

"What is it?"

"I just... thank you. For keeping this place for me." For all her sincerity, the words sounded suspiciously hollow. But what more could she possibly have to tell him? It was over. They had said everything there was to say to each other. Hadn't they?

There was a brief silence. She thought he was waiting for her to go on but she couldn't. Then he spoke.

"You know, when I saw you standing out there in front of the water," Linc confided, "I was convinced I was seeing things. I'd finally lost my mind, 'cause there was no way that was you; you've never come here in all these years I've been looking after this place."

Linc stroked her arms very slowly, as if taking care not to frighten her. "I still don't believe it. That I'm seeing you, touching you..."

His warm lips descended to the base of her throat. Half hypnotized by the dance of the flames, Zandra had no thought of fighting him. He kissed the side of her neck and she closed her eyes. Her head leaned to the side, allowing him greater access.

His warm breath on her skin raised tingly goosebumps all over her body when he whispered, "It's like I fantasized this into real life."

Maybe he had, because all Zandra wanted to do was go along with whatever he had in mind. He was tired of fighting and so was she, she realized.

She was heartily sick of grieving and hating and feeling sorry for herself. She had come so far, achieved success beyond her wildest dreams. She'd grown into a fully realized woman. Wasn't it finally time to put the broken girl to rest?

"The only time I see you is on your show," he went on. "But that's just a character, and while I appreciate the immense talent it to takes to play her, my business is with you, not with Cassidy."

"No," she agreed in subdued tones. "Not Cassidy. So what do you want with me tonight?"

Linc didn't dare think the sweetness in her voice, remembered from so long ago, was real. But her words held a suggestion that was impossible to ignore.

Linc stopped stroking her arms. Exercising the same cautious gentleness as before, he turned her around. He expected to see accusation, tear-stained cheeks... not the expectancy and invitation that he found in her tranquil eyes.

His breath huffed out in silent disbelief. "I want my Zandra to come back to me," he said huskily.

My Zandra. After everything that had happened between them, it still sounded right. Perhaps it was, if only for this night. She had missed him, she admitted in her heart. She had missed being his Zandra, missed it with her heart, her soul and yes, her body.

To deny it would be to punish him and she found she had no will to do that. She wanted just the opposite, in fact. He needed healing and consolation, just as she did. Maybe her heart and soul were demolished. But she could still offer him the comfort of her body.

Her hands went behind her back, and Linc could swear he heard the faint burr of a lowering zipper. Then she pulled wide at the shoulders of her dress and it fell to a silvery satin pool at her feet. Her bra soon followed and then she shimmied out of her panties.

"Then I will," she promised as she stepped naked into his arms.

"Why?" He knew he shouldn't tempt fate with too many questions, but he just had to know. Her eyes shimmered with tears but she bravely smiled for him.

"Your fantasy, your rules," she whispered as she pulled his head down. "Tonight, I'm yours. Just like you want."

Her enigmatic answer was enough, more than he'd dared hope for. Accepting it, Linc swooped down and took her lips in a rapacious kiss. Zandra felt a brief second of panic which was swiftly replaced by a warm heaviness in her limbs. She then parted her lips, kissed him with all the shamelessness he'd taught her to wield while making love.

If they were enacting his fantasy then they were enacting hers, too, because Zandra was swiftly abandoned to her old passion for him. Her amorous instincts had petered out over the years, but with one kiss, Linc brought them back to the fore with all the blazing urgency of a wildfire.

He was the one who slowed them down, his kisses giving her more sweetness than raw need. Her breasts ached to be pressed into his hard chest but he stepped back and broke the kiss with a breathless laugh.

"My rules," he reminded her huskily. He caught her hands and brought them to his chest. "Take off my clothes."

Zandra squelched her impatience and helped him whip the shirt over his head then reached down and loosened his belt. Sliding his trousers and boxers down his long legs to his bare feet required her to kneel down in front of him. It gave her a delicious, submissive feeling, a throwback to the days she'd enjoyed playing his slave girl.

The idea still turned her on. Her eyes lifted to the jutting ebony length between his legs. Her hungry lips parted as she raised her face to his cock. At the very last second before contact, he caught a thick swath of her hair and stilled her.

Smiling, he sought to soothe the confused disappointment he saw on her face. "Lie back on the shag, sweetheart."

Linc had pictured this moment, planned it for years. This wasn't a time for games and roleplay; he would give her romance, soft words and aching pleasure by the crackling firelight. He would give her all this and more, if he could just subdue her.

Zandra accepted his lead only after much kissing and whispered persuasion. She writhed on the rug beneath him, moaning while her lax hands were brushed off his hard body and over her head. Then he was free to kiss and nibble her neck, brush reverent lips against her alabaster shoulders, then advance lower.

He teased literal circles around her heaving round breasts, his tongue spiraling ever closer to their puckered peaks. When he finally tugged one pink nipple into his mouth, she let out a breathless cry.

"Don't stop," she panted.

He did not. He suckled and suckled, first one breast then the other, until she was weak and quivering for more.

When her menacing demands had turned to whimpered pleas, Linc finally lifted his head. He made eye contact as he reached for the silky curls between her thighs, loving the frantic look her eyes got as he parted her slimy folds and entered her with one finger. Ah fuck, she was so ready for him, so nice and slick.

He pumped her pussy for a bit with one, then slipped another finger in. Biting her lip, Zandra pleaded with her eyes for more. He just smiled and increased the pace of his fingers in and out of her cunt.

"Please," she gasped. Her fingernails dug into his arms but he didn't notice. He was too focused on watching her beautiful, dewy face, on hearing her beg.