Carrying the teacup with her, Lesley walked over to the bookcase and read the titles. Many of the books were ones she’d read and enjoyed herself. More than any other room of the house, she sensed Zane’s personality strongest here. The furniture was leather, new and stiff. There were no pictures, no artwork—just the leather sofa, two chairs and more books than small town libraries.
When Lesley least expected it, the mahogany doors glided open and Zane entered the room, closing the panels behind him. She turned, certain that she’d embellished his impact on her in the days since their meeting. If anything, she found him even more compelling than she had the first time. He was a hard man—whether from necessity or nature, she couldn’t be sure. Intuitively she recognized he was an honorable one, as well.
His eyes revealed none of his feelings, but she sensed that he was pleased to see her again, the same way she felt toward him. No one needed to tell her that Zane didn’t want to feel anything for her. But he did, and she gained a good deal of pleasure in the knowledge.
“Hello, Lesley.”
“Zane.” She sounded slightly breathless; indeed, that was the way she felt.
“You brought the blueprints?”
It didn’t escape her notice how eager he was to get down to business. The sooner she was in and out of his house and his life, the better. He all but painted a banner to tell her as much.
“I have several ideas to show you.”
“I’m anxious to get started remodeling,” he said matter-of-factly.
A polite knock sounded against the library door.
“Yes,” Zane called out.
Mrs. Applegate slid open the door. “I’m sorry to disturb you but Candy Hoffman is here to see you.”
Lesley watched as Zane frowned. A woman. Lesley’s stomach clenched with what she could only determine to be an unflattering form of jealousy. It was crazy to feel any such thing, especially over a woman she had never met.
“I’m sure this won’t take long,” Zane offered apologetically to Lesley.
“Can I show her in?” Mrs. Applegate asked.
Zane nodded, but Lesley could see he was none-too-pleased with the interruption.
A lanky blonde walked into the room, and looked around nervously. She wore faded jeans, a checkered shirt and cowboy boots. Her short hairstyle didn’t complement her looks. Lesley guessed the other woman to be in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties, close to her own age.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Ackerman,” the other woman said nervously. Her blue eyes appeared apologetic. “I learned this morning that you’ve decided to buy your supplies elsewhere.”
“That’s right.”
“I was wondering if there’s been a problem with the goods or service Hoffman Feed has given you?”
“On the contrary,” Zane said matter-of-factly. “As far as I can tell, both have been excellent.”
Candy opened her mouth as if to argue, then promptly snapped it shut with a look of surprise. “Then, if you don’t mind my asking, what made you decide to give your business to another feed store?”
Zane didn’t hesitate. “I can’t rightly say. Carl makes those kind of decisions. He asked me about it recently and I told him the decision was his.”
“Carl Saks?” Her eyes rounded with what Lesley would best describe as distress. She lowered her head. “I was afraid of that.”
“Afraid?”
Candy nodded. “Carl and I seem to have a personality conflict.”
“Carl isn’t unreasonable,” Zane offered. “Perhaps you should talk to him.”
Candy shook her head adamantly. “I’d rather peel grapes than deal with that man. He’s stubborn and irrational.”
A hint of a smile eased up the good side of Zane’s mouth, “As I recall, Carl said much the same thing about you.”
Candy’s head shot up, and her eyes flashed with outrage. “Maybe I will talk with him after all. All I’m asking, Mr. Ackerman, is that you don’t make a rash decision about not giving us your business. You have a big account with us and we don’t want to lose it.”
“I hope you can work things out with Carl, then,” Zane said.
“I’ll do my best,” she muttered as she spun around and headed out the door.
As soon as the other woman was out of sight, Zane chuckled softly.
Lesley wasn’t sure what was happening, but she had a pretty good guess. Zane turned back to face her and smiled. “You know, I almost feel sorry for Carl. It looks to me that at long last he’s met his match.”
Carl wasn’t the only one, Lesley mused. If she had anything to say about it, Zane Ackerman had found his equal in her, as well.
Candy Hoffman hadn’t a clue what she was going to say to Carl. She never had been fond of crow, and knowing the man, he’d make sure she swallowed it, feathers and all. Candy wasn’t sure what had happened, but the two of them had started off on the wrong foot and it had gone steadily downhill from there. The last straw had come when he stopped off at the feed store a few days ago, asking about his order. Candy had seen to it herself only that morning and sent it out. Or so she thought. When Carl insisted it hadn’t been delivered, she swore it had been. Later she found the order in the back. She’d sent it out right away, but apparently that wasn’t good enough.
As she expected, she found Carl working in the barn, mucking stalls. Great. Just great. He was bound to be in an ugly mood.
“Hello, Carl,” she said, tucking her fingertips in her back jean pockets.
He glanced over his shoulder, saw it was her and then without a word went back to shoveling.
Candy swallowed tightly. She’d be tarred and feathered before she’d grovel to this man, but there might be a way around that.
“It seems you and I don’t see eye to eye,” she said, hoping that would suffice.
Carl said nothing.
“I’m here to mend fences. I regret the argument we had the other day about your order. I was at fault, and I apologize.”
Again he pretended not to hear her.
“What is it you want from me?” she asked, losing her limited patience.
“You’re here because you don’t want to lose this account.”
“All right,” she shouted, kicking the toe of her cowboy boot against the floorboards. “I don’t want to lose this account.”
“Let me ask you something.” He turned around and glared at her.
“All right.” She was eager to do what she could to right the wrongs committed.
“Are you a man or a woman?”
The anger that burned inside her was fierce, but she managed to hold on to it. “I don’t understand the question.”
Carl leaned against the shovel handle. “When I first met you, I thought you were a man. It wasn’t until you spoke that I realized you were a woman.”
Candy bristled. “What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Your legs aren’t bad, either.”
From another man, Candy might have found the words complimentary, but not from Carl. “My being male or female has nothing to do with the feed store. We give you good service and excellent prices.”
“I don’t like your attitude.” Carl slapped the shovel against the side of the stall and advanced toward her.
Candy didn’t budge an inch. She refused to allow him to intimidate her.
“You’ve got a temper.”
“Me!” she protested.
“You’re bossy as hell.”
“I most certainly am not!” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. True, she’d crossed swords with Carl every time he was in the store, but that wasn’t her fault. At least not entirely.
“The fact is, I don’t like you.”
“The fact is, I don’t think much of you, either. You can forget I came by. It was an obvious mistake. Feel free to take your business elsewhere.” She spun around, eager now to make her escape. Pride was the only thing that prevented her from running out of the barn.
She
hadn’t gone more than a couple of steps, when Carl reached out and grabbed her by the upper arm. Against her will, she came whirling back around with such force that she collided against his chest.
Carl seemed as surprised as she was herself, and now that he’d trapped her, he didn’t seem to know what to do with her. Fierce pride filled his eyes until they glittered with bronze fire. He drew her more firmly up against him and then lowered his mouth to hers.
Candy was too shocked to react, too stunned to respond. She meant to protest. No man in all her life had ever made her more angry. No man had defied her the way Carl Saks had. No man had stood up against her the way he had, either.
Against every dictate of her will, she parted her lips. He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth one way and the other, pressing hard against her own.
Squirming, she protested, but he plowed his free hand into her hair and held her head prisoner while he dominated her in the most primitive of ways.
It didn’t take Candy long to realize she was waging a losing battle. She didn’t want this, and at the same moment, she was working her mouth against his, giving as well as receiving.
Before she was aware of what was happening, the intensity of the kiss changed. All the fight seemed to go out of them both at precisely the same moment.
Carl groaned and Candy melted against him.
The kiss went on and on until Candy wasn’t sure she ever wanted it to end. Carl was the one who came to his senses first. He eased his mouth from hers, dropped his arms and stepped back.
Candy raised the back of her hand to her mouth and pressed it there, all the while staring at him. Tears blurred her eyes. Tears of anger. Tears of outrage and denial.
Earlier pride had dictated that she not run from him. He’d stripped her of that. He’d claimed far more than a kiss. He’d robbed her of her dignity. With a lump in her throat, she reeled around and raced out of the barn as fast as her legs would carry her.
She thought she heard Carl call her name, but she didn’t stop running until she reached the truck. Never, she silently vowed, would she ever return.
“I like what you’ve done,” Zane told Lesley. Liked was an understatement. Her ideas for the renovation were incredible. Better than he dared hope. That she’d spent an incredible amount of time and effort on the project was evident on every sheet.
“Once I have your approval I’ll give Jordan a copy. He’ll look them over and give you a rough estimate the first part of next week.”
Zane’s original intention had been to be as quick with this meeting as humanly possible. He’d look over the drawings simply to be polite and then explain that he had a pressing appointment and send Lesley back to the city. When he was alone, he’d review the drawings again.
The minute Lesley had shown him her ideas, Zane had been enthralled. She had captured the very soul of this home, taken the best of what he loved about the place and made it better. Some of the changes were dramatic. Walls removed. Rooms created. Others changes were subtle.
Zane pored over the prints, and each time he studied them he saw something more. He should be alarmed, he told himself. This woman, who knew little more about him than his given name, had captured the very essence of who he was. With that knowledge, she’d created for him a home any man would treasure. A home meant for a family. The family his vengeance would cost him.
Zane had insulated his life and yet, Lesley, after one brief encounter, had seen through the protective barrier he’d placed around his heart as if it were as clear as cellophane.
Alarm bells buzzed, but he ignored them.
“I have a decorator friend I’d like to recommend,’ Lesley was saying.
They were both leaning against the table. Zane turned to listen and realized something. He wanted to love to Lesley. He didn’t want her to matter to him. Couldn’t afford the extravagance of falling in love. Especially not now. Not ever, if he was going to follow through with his plans. But the need to hold her, to feel her mouth under his, was nearly overwhelming.
He didn’t want to care about her, and in that same instant realized he was too late. He already did care.
A knock sounded behind him and Mrs. Applegate let herself into the library. “Dinner’s ready,” she announced with a smile so big, it looked as if she’d tried to eat a banana sideways. “I took the liberty of setting a place for Lesley,” she said.
“It’s dinnertime?” Zane didn’t realize how late it was.
“I must be going.”
“Please stay for dinner.” He wasn’t sure what he felt. It went without saying that he would like for her to stay, but he also knew that the less time they spent together, the better.
“I should be getting back to the city,” Lesley murmured, rolling the prints back up and inserting them in the cardboard tube.
“Nonsense,” Zane found himself telling her.
She hesitated. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” He was equally confident that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life, but even that didn’t seem to be enough to keep him from leaping off the edge of the cliff.
Mrs. Applegate had set the dining room table, and Zane nearly groaned aloud when he saw there were only two place settings.
“Carl is having dinner in town tonight,” his housekeeper informed him even before he could voice the question.
That was just hunky-dory.
“I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before dinner,” Martha was saying to Lesley.
The two women disappeared. Zane walked over to the window and looked out. It usually didn’t get dark until after eight this time of year. But it was just after six and already the sky was black.
He looked toward the water and realized a storm was brewing. Angry, forbidding clouds threatened the sky and the wind was picking up.
Zane thought to warn Lesley and suggest that she start for the city now, then thought better of it. He’d worry if the storm broke and she was on the road. It was best to ride it out and send her off when the worst of it had passed.
Lesley returned a few minutes later and they sat opposite each other at the dining room table. Mrs. Applegate had outdone herself. There was roast chicken, mashed potatoes and country gravy, fresh green beans and biscuits still warm from the oven. Zane swore his housekeeper’s buttermilk biscuits melted in his mouth.
When they’d finished, Martha brought in two cups of coffee. “That meal was scrumptious enough to completely ruin my appetite.”
Zane laughed, enjoying her joke. He stopped when he realized she was staring. He didn’t laugh often and forgot about the scar that twisted his face and what his amusement must look like to her.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “It’s just that was the first time I’d ever heard you laugh. You should do it more often.”
Lesley smiled at him—a soft, intimate smile. The kind a woman gives a man she loves. Being with her made him feel happy deep inside. He’d sensed that danger earlier, and chose to ignore it. Now it stared him straight in the face.
The discordant sound of thunder crashing outside fell like a hammer against an anvil into the center of the room.
Lesley gasped at the unexpectedness of it.
The lights blinked. There’d been a number of storms in the few months following his arrival. Such a storm as this was what had convinced Zane to have the house rewired.
Lesley stood and walked over to the window. She edged forward and examined the angry sky Zane had viewed thirty minutes earlier.
He’d forgotten to mention the incoming squall over dinner, and wanted to kick himself. The omission hadn’t been intentional; he’d gotten caught up in their conversation and the matter had slipped his mind.
The lights went out with the second peal of thunder. Luckily it was light enough inside the house to locate the candles.
Lesley helped clear the table.
When the rain started it pounded like angry fists against the windows. “I better check the horses,” Zane said. Since C
arl was away for the evening, someone would need to quiet them.
“You go with him,” he heard Mrs. Applegate insist. Rather than argue with them both, Zane let her.
He started out the back door. Lesley found a sweater on a hook just inside the porch. She held it over her head as they hurried toward the barn.
The horses whinnied and stomped their front legs when he stepped inside the large structure. It was darker in there.
“Carl?” Zane called, thinking his friend might have returned, but there was no response. He lit a couple of lanterns that he kept for just such emergencies.
The animals needed quieting and Zane did so with the skill of one who is more comfortable with equines than with people. To her credit, Lesley stayed out of his way and let him deal with the horses. She didn’t offer to help, since she was a stranger, and right now his stock needed reassurances from someone they were familiar with.
When he’d finished getting them into their stalls for the night, refreshing their water and giving them an extra scoop of oats, Zane turned and found Lesley studying him.
She gave him a slow, sweet smile. Earlier, Zane had realized how badly he wanted to kiss her. In that moment, the need increased tenfold. His chest lifted with a deep, sharp intake of breath.
“We better get back to the house,” he said, fearing if they stayed in the barn any longer, he wouldn’t be able to resist taking her in his arms.
By the time they extinguished the light, it was pitch-black. Zane opened the door and watched as the rain pelted the ground as if it were a means of punishment.
“Maybe we should stay in here for a while,” Lesley suggested, staring into the pulsating rain. It was coming down in sheets now.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Zane said quickly, fearing the level of intimacy would increase beyond his ability to withstand being this close to her. At the moment he would have welcomed the entire community of Sleepy Valley into his home if it would help him take his mind off touching Lesley.
The temptation grew stronger each passing minute, and their being alone didn’t bode well. Already he could feel his level of resistance weakening.
Just Married Page 3
