A PERFECT RENDEZVOUS

Rest Your Bones

"This is it," Harry said a half hour later when they pulled up before Keaton's only motel. "Keaton's best motel." Ted and Katherine had dropped them off at his house and they'd gotten Zayn's suitcase and briefcases and Harry's car.

Zayn looked in disbelief at the long ramshackle building with black doors at twelve-foot intervals that somehow reminded him of rotted teeth, and the empty swimming pool that practically sat on the shoulder of the highway, then he raised his gaze to the flashing neon sign above it and read it aloud: "The Rest Your Bones Motel," he repeated in disbelief. "There has to be another motel around here."

"I wish there was," Harry said on a suffocated laugh.

An old man with a Stetson and a cheek full of chewing tobacco was sitting in front of the office on a metal chair, enjoying the balmy evening when they pulled up to register. He stood up as Zayn got out of the car. "Howdy, Harry," he called, identifying him with a brief glance through the windshield.

Zayn abandoned all hope of a nice, anonymous trysting place and stalked into the office, his mood going from fair to poor.

"Mind if I keep this for a souvenir?" the manager asked when Zayn scribbled his name on the registration form and shoved it across the desk.

"No."

"Zayn Malik," the manager uttered reverently, picking up the form and studying the signature. "Zayn Malik, right here, stayin' at my motel. Who would've guessed it could happen?"

"Not me," Zayn said flatly. "I don't suppose you have a suite?"

"We got a bridal suite."

"You're kidding," Zayn said, glancing over his shoulder at the uninviting building, and then he saw Harry leaning against the office door, his feet crossed at the ankles, his face aglow with mischievous laughter, and Zayn's spirits lifted crazily.

"The bridal suite's got a kitchenette," the manager added.

"How romantic. I'll take it," Zayn said, and he heard the magic of Harry's muffled laughter. It made him smile.

"Let's go," he said, escorting Harry out of the office and toward his room while the manager followed them out and stood beneath the overhang. "Am I imagining it," he asked dryly as he opened the door to the bridal suite and stepped aside for Harry to proceed him, "or is that guy watching to see if you go in here."

"He's watching to see whether I go in here, whether or not we close the door, and how long I stay. By tomorrow, the whole town will know the answers to all three of these questions."

Zayn turned on the wall switch, took one look at the suite, and quickly turned the lights back off. "How much time can we spend at your house without causing a lot of gossip?"

Harry hesitated, wishing he'd tell him he loved him again and what he wanted to do about it. "That depends on your intentions."

"I have very honorable intentions but they'll have to wait until tomorrow. I refuse to discuss them in a room with a red velvet heart-shaped bed and purple chairs."

Harry's relief came out in an explosion of musical mirth and Zayn dragged him into his arms. Groping in the dark for his face, Zayn cradled it between his hands, laughing while he kissed Harry, and then slowly, the laughter faded as Harry held him and kissed him back. "I love you," Zayn whispered. "You make me so damned happy. You made hiding out in Colorado seem like fun. You make this suite from hell feel like a bridal bower. Even in prison, when I hated you, I'd dream of the way you dragged me home, half-frozen, and the way you danced with me and made love to me, and I'd wake up wanting you."

Harry brushed his fingertips over Zayn's lips and rubbed his cheek against his chest. "Someday soon, would you take me to South America, so we can stay on your boat? I dreamed of being there with you."

"It wasn't much of a boat. I used to have a large yacht. I'll buy another one for you and we'll take a cruise on it."

Harry shook his head. "I'd like to stay with you on the boat in South America, just the way we planned, even if it's only for a week."

"We'll do both."

Reluctantly, Zayn let him go and steered him out the open door. "It's two hours earlier in California, and I have some phone calls and arrangements to make. When can I see you again?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Naturally," he said dryly. "How early?"

"As early as you'd like. It's a county holiday. There's a big parade, a carnival, picnic, the works, for the bicentennial celebration. It will go on all week."

"That sounds like fun," he said and was surprised because he rather meant it. "Pick me up at nine, and I'll buy you breakfast."

"I know just the place—best food in town."

"Really, where?"

"McDonald's," Harry teased, laughing at his appalled look, then he pressed a kiss to his cheek and left.

Still grinning, Zayn closed the door and turned on the lights, then he walked over to the bed and reluctantly put his briefcase on it. Taking out his cellular phone, he made his first call to the Paynes, who he knew would be anxious to discover the outcome of his trip. He held on while Joe O'Hara went outside to get Liam and Meredith from among the party guests.

"Well?" Liam Payne's voice was filled with expectation, "Meredith is here, and you're on the speaker phone. How's Harry?"

"Harry's wonderful."

"Are you married yet?"

"No," Zayn said, thinking irritably of the agreement Harry's father foisted on him, "we're going steady."

"You're what?" Meredith sputtered. "I mean, we thought you'd be in Tahoe by now."

"I'm still in Keaton."

"Oh."

"At the Rest Your Bones Motel."

He heard Meredith's muffled laughter.

"In the bridal suite."

She laughed harder.

"It has a kitchenette."

She shrieked with mirth.

"Your pilot must be stuck here, too, poor devil. I should invite him over for poker."

"Watch out if you do," Liam warned dryly. "He'll walk away with most of your money."

"He won't even be able to see his cards in here. He'll be blinded by the red velvet heart-shaped bed and purple lounge chairs. How's the party?"

"I made a polite announcement that you were called away on urgent business. Meredith stepped in to oversee the staff and play hostess. Everything's fine."

Zayn hesitated, thinking of the engagement ring he needed and of the superb jewels Bancroft & Company was famous for carrying in their exclusive stores. "Meredith, could I ask a favor?"

"Anything," she said with quiet sincerity.

"I need an engagement ring right away—tomorrow morning if possible. I know what I want, but I won't find it here, and if I show my face in Dallas, I'll be recognized. I don't want the press following me and descending on this town until the last possible minute."

She understood at once. "Tell me what you have in mind. Tomorrow morning, when our Dallas store opens, I'll phone the head of the Fine Jewelry Department and have her select several rings. Steve can pick them up by ten-fifteen and bring them to you."

"You're an angel. Here's what I want—"