Dinner with their friends had been an ordeal for them both. Zane couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. She was guilty of staring at him too. After a while, as rude as it sounded, Lesley felt that Molly and Jordan were an intrusion.
Watching Zane with the Larabees’ two children had deeply touched her. Bethany was naturally curious about his scar. Zane had held the three-year-old and allowed her to trace her small finger down the side of his face.
With limitless patience, he answered the questions Lesley had been afraid to ask. A very bad man had done that to him and, no, it didn’t hurt. Not anymore.
Lesley had been captivated, studying Zane with Bethany and Ian. He seemed to be equally enthralled watching her with the children. Being with Bethany and Ian reminded her of how badly she longed for a child herself.
Lesley sighed and shoved the memories from her mind. Instead, she forced herself to focus her attention on Zane’s home.
It was apparent that the remodeling project was in full swing. The place hummed with activity. A stack of building supplies lined one side of the lawn. A van and a pickup truck were parked in front, and a series of men purposely strolled in and out of the house.
Lesley parked away from the construction vehicles and climbed out of the car. No sooner had her car door closed than Mrs. Applegate stepped onto the porch and waved.
“Oh, my. You’re a sight for sore eyes, dearie.”
Lesley hugged the older woman.
“Have you ever seen a bigger mess in all your life?” the housekeeper asked under her breath.
“It won’t take long. I promise,” Lesley said, hoping to comfort Zane’s housekeeper.
“All this mess has got Mr. Zane unsettled.”
“Is Zane around?” She was right on time, and disappointed he wasn’t here to greet her himself.
“Mr. Zane’s on the phone. I’m sure he’ll be available any minute. Come into the kitchen with me. I just made a pitcher of lemonade.” Mrs. Applegate glanced around and then lowered her voice. “He misses you.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true.”
“Mark my words, dearie. That man needs a woman in his life. And the one he wants is you.”
A stocky fellow, wearing a hard hat, stopped them. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any more of those oatmeal cookies left, do you?”
“Of course,” Mrs. Applegate said, beaming with pride. “I’ll get you a plate when I bring out the lemonade.” The minute the man was out of sight, the housekeeper whispered, “I swear these men are eating us out of house and home. The big one over there ate a dozen of my oatmeal cookies in one sitting just this morning.”
Lesley had trouble hiding a smile. Mrs. Applegate was in her element now that she had someone who appreciated her home-baked goods.
“Lesley.” The doors to the library glided open and Zane stepped out. As it always seemed to happen, Lesley couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her skin felt hot and sensitive just being with him.
“What do you think?” Zane asked, making a sweeping gesture toward the remodeling effort.
“I bet you feel like you should be wearing a hard hat.”
A saw buzzed loudly, interrupting their conversation. “Let’s go outside,” Zane suggested, leading the way.
As they made their way across the thick lawn, she realized that his limp wasn’t as noticeable. Katydids buzzed at their feet and the scent of cut grass and sunshine followed them.
Zane led her to the viewpoint she’d found on her first visit. The sweeping panorama of Lake Michigan held such exquisite beauty that it stole her breath. To enjoy it with Zane standing beside her heightened her enjoyment tenfold,
“My grandfather used to stand here.”
“I thought you said it was your grandmother’s favorite spot.”
“It was, but after she died, my grandfather came here often. He was never the same after Grandma was gone. It seemed like a part of him died with her.”
“How long did he live afterward?” Her own grandparents had died within nine months of each other. Lesley had been ten at the time, but she remembered the tremendous sense of loss she’d experienced with their passing.
“I don’t know,” Zane said. He walked over to the concrete bench and sat down. Lesley joined him. He reached for her hand, the first time that he’d voluntarily touched her in weeks. “My parents divorced shortly after that summer and my mother didn’t want me to have anything more to do with my father’s family.
“We moved to California, and adopted another name. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she’d kidnapped me. But then, I don’t think any eleven-year-old fully understands what happens when his parents stop loving each other.”
His hand tightened, painfully pinching her fingers, but Lesley was convinced he was unaware of what he was doing. Gradually the pressure decreased.
“I never saw him again,” he said with a heavy bitterness weighing his voice.
“Your grandfather?”
“Or my father.”
This explained so much. Zane had been ripped from the arms of a loving father, taken from the only family he’d ever known and thrust into a new life with a new name, understanding nothing.
“Did your mother remarry?”
He stiffened when she mentioned his mother. “No.” The lone word answered more than her question. With it came the knowledge that it was unlikely he’d allow another woman into his life. Whatever had happened between Zane and his mother had left him wary and embittered.
“The happiest days of my life were spent at this house,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s why I found it. Why I bought it. And why I decided to restore it to its former grandeur.”
All at once Zane stood, as if he couldn’t bear to sit any longer. “Are you interested in going out on the lake?”
Her heart leapt with excitement. “I’d love it.”
“There’s a stairway that leads down to the water. My sailboat’s docked there.” He hesitated and glanced her way, his eyes smiling. “I should warn you, however, that it’s been a good long time since I’ve sailed.”
“We’ll manage,” she assured him.
His gaze held hers for an elongated moment. “I imagine we will.”
The tractor engine was giving Carl nothing but trouble. He’d spent the better part of the morning fussing over it, to no avail. It was getting to the point where he was going to have to read the manual. Which only went to prove the sorry state of his mind. He’d like to blame Candy Hoffman for that, too.
His back ached from leaning over the blasted tractor, and his mood had been sour ever since he’d gotten back from town that morning. He tossed the wrench back inside the toolbox, and pressed his hand against the small of his back. What he needed was a break.
He picked up the sandwich Mrs. Applegate had set out for his lunch and carried it to his house. One thing was sure, he wasn’t going to get any peace and quiet at the big house. A man couldn’t hear himself think for all the racket going on in there.
Zane wasn’t around, either. Earlier, Mrs. Applegate had said something about him being with Lesley. That left a man to wonder. Zane and Lesley…Well, more power to him. Even a casual observer could tell which way the wind blew with those two. Although Carl couldn’t help but wonder what Zane intended to do about Schuyler.
Together, he and Zane had stood over the graves of Dan and Dave, their two comrades, and Zane had sworn he’d get even. He meant to do it too. Zane intended to go after Schuyler himself.
A chill raced down Carl’s spine at the thought of the terrorist. Schuyler was responsible for Zane’s injuries and for the death of two good friends and countless innocents.
Carl sat at his kitchen table, the manual for the tractor engine open in front of him. A knock sounded at his front door.
“Who’s there?” he demanded. Rarely did anyone disturb him here, which was just the way he wanted to keep it.
“Candy Hoffman.”
Carl nearly upset the table as he bolted upright. Ca
ndy Hoffman!
He decided to play it cool, and took his own sweet time getting to the door. She’d probably come to personally thank him for the flowers, and to apologize for the way she’d treated him earlier. As well she should.
He opened the door, but Candy wasn’t wearing a smile the way he assumed she would be. In fact, from the sour look she gave him, he wondered if she’d gotten his flowers. He almost asked, and probably would have if she hadn’t shoved a clipboard into his stomach.
“Sign here,” she demanded.
“For what?” he asked just as irritably.
“Someone has to sign for the delivery.”
“What delivery?”
She looked at him as though he should have his intelligence tested. “I seem to recall that you personally stepped into the shop and gave me a list this morning.”
“Oh.” It didn’t take him long to recover. “I thought you said you didn’t want my business.”
“You changed your mind, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I changed mine. You want these supplies or don’t you?”
“All right, all right,” he grumbled under his breath. There wasn’t a pen with the board so he walked over and pulled open the kitchen drawer, searching for one.
“Thank you for the flowers.”
He almost didn’t hear her—the words were so low. He looked up and their eyes met. Candy didn’t look the way she normally did, with her eyes snapping at him, just waiting to leap on some comment he made. Her eyes were all soft and feminine. Tender like. His stomach clenched the way it had when she’d told him about Showberg touching her in places she didn’t want to be touched.
With difficulty, he pulled his gaze away from her. Because of the effect she had on him, his voice was sharp and unfriendly when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to upset you this morning.”
“Are you saying you want to be friends, Carl Saks?” she asked defiantly. She held herself stiff, almost as if she were afraid of his answer.
The frustration in Carl reached the boiling point. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said angrily. “You just don’t get it.”
“Get what?” she asked just as loudly.
The best way to tell her was to give her an example. He tossed the clipboard aside and started toward her, cutting the distance between them in four strides.
A lesser woman would have hightailed it in a dead run. And the way he was feeling right then, it might have been better if Candy had.
She didn’t fight him when he wrapped his arm around her waist and hauled her forcefully against him. He knew when he kissed her that his mouth was hungry and hard. For weeks, he’d been thinking of doing just this. Ever since the first time in the stable. He’d burned with a hungry need to kiss her again. What angered him the most was that Candy hadn’t a clue how he felt about her.
Nothing he’d said or did eased the fire. It threatened now to burn out of control.
He pulled her blouse free of her waistband, all the while kissing her. She made soft, incoherent noises, as their mouths twisted against each other.
Their kisses grew deeper, more intense and physically demanding. Carl had expected her to scratch his eyes out before now, but she gave as good as she got, clinging to him, whimpering and moaning. Knowing she was as hot for him as he was for her, fueled his actions.
“What is it you want?”
“You…I want you.”
Carl groaned out and glanced over his shoulder, wondering how long it would take to get her to his bed. The woman had been driving him crazy for weeks. He couldn’t wait. With her back braced against the wall and them both too mindless with need to think, clearly Carl breathlessly took what she offered.,
When they’d finished his breathing was harsh and heavy. He braced his forehead against hers. “Now you know,” he choked out between gasps for breath.
“Know?”
“Why we can’t be friends.”
His words were met with a shocked kind of silence. The next thing he knew, he was forcefully shoved away from her. They both would have fallen to the floor, if Carl hadn’t caught himself.
Before he could figure out what was wrong, Candy slammed her fist against his shoulder. She didn’t do him any harm, but she must have hurt her fist because she let out a yelp.
“What’s wrong now?” he demanded.
“Just leave me alone.” She twisted herself free of his embrace.
It took him longer than it should have to realize she was crying. It was much more than tears brightening her eyes. Full-scale sobs shook her shoulders and caused her to tremble so bad, she could barely stand upright. Her head hung low as she struggled to right her clothes.
“What did I say this time?” he asked.
She shook her head, her hands trembling so hard, she couldn’t fasten her clothes. Carl figured he didn’t have any choice but to help her, although heaven knew it wasn’t what he wanted. He cupped the side of her face. “Whatever I said that was so terrible, I’m sorry.”
She glanced up at him, and again he had the feeling she was afraid to trust him.
“You’re good, baby, real good.” His nose nuzzled her neck, and he planted a series of delicate kisses there. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a bout of sex more.”
“Sex!” She roared the one word at him, then plowed her fist into his stomach so hard, she knocked the breath clean out of him. He doubled over, more stunned than hurt, and watched helplessly as she raced out of his house, slamming the door in her wake.
The sailboat sliced through the deep green water of Lake Michigan. Lesley loved the feel of the swift breeze that whipped her hair about her face. She closed her eyes and turned her head skyward, soaking in the brilliant sunshine.
“This is fabulous,” she shouted to Zane, who manned the helm. He smiled back at her. It wasn’t a real smile, but as close as he got to revealing his pleasure.
When he stretched out his arm, in silent invitation for her to join him, Lesley supped naturally into his embrace. “It’s a perfect day for this.”
“My grandfather used to take me out with him,” Zane told her. “I loved it then—I’d forgotten how much.” His arm tightened around her shoulders.
He seemed unnaturally quiet after that. Once or twice Lesley attempted conversation, but it soon became evident that Zane had no interest in chitchat. His eyes remained dark and serious, and he had the look of a man who had something on his mind.
As if reading her thoughts, he spoke. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately.”
She didn’t probe, knowing he’d reveal his thoughts when it suited him.
“Your comment about wanting children has stayed with me.”
She’d assumed this had something to do with the house. “Children?” Often in the past weeks, she’d wondered what madness had possessed her to mention her desire for a family. It left her feeling uncomfortable knowing she’d shared that part of herself with him.
“You’d be a good mother, Lesley.”
“I’d like to think so.” She knew she sounded breathless, but he’d taken her by surprise.
“You’re patient and gentle and you possess a kind heart.”
She thought of all the good qualities she’d seen in him, but knew he wasn’t interested in hearing about himself.
“There comes a time in a man’s life when he thinks about the future.”
He must have given the subject a good deal of thought following his injuries, she realized.
“Sort of a biological clock for men?” she joked.
He chuckled softly. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose you’re right. When I die…”
“But that’s a good many years from now.”
He didn’t respond.
“I’ve given some thought to what my legacy will be, and realized there’ll be nothing in this world to say I’ve lived. Nothing to say that I’ve loved or that I’ve cared. You, on the other hand, will leave a mark with or without a family.”
“You mean the buildings I’ve designed?”
“Yes. But I won’t have anything to pass on. I have no family, no children, and I’ve come to realize those things are important to me.”
He made death sound imminent, as if he gave the subject much thought, and that distressed her. “We certainly have gotten onto a dark subject.”
“We haven’t known each other long,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “But I’ve felt a physical and emotional connection with you from the first. I’ve tried to reason it away, tried to pretend it doesn’t exist, but that hasn’t worked.”
Lesley lowered her head. “I’ve felt it, too.”
“You want a child and I want an heir.”
Lesley held her breath, then whispered the question. “What are you saying?”
“I’m asking you to marry me, Lesley.”
Chapter Six
“MARRIAGE,” LESLEY REPEATED softly. The word echoed in her mind as if Zane had shouted it against a canyon wall. Each time it bounced back, she wondered if his proposal was a figment of her imagination. Zane had all but pushed her out of his life; now he was asking her to be a major part of it.
“There’s a good deal to be said in favor of the two of us marrying,” he continued. “I’m a wealthy man. You’ll never need to worry about finances again.”
Lesley bristled. “There’s more than money involved in such a commitment.” It irritated her that he would consider his fortune as his greatest asset.
“You don’t need to give me your answer right away.”
She wanted to ask him about love, but her thoughts remained scrambled and confused. It would seem that Zane must hold some tenderness for her, otherwise he wouldn’t have proposed. Not unless he had an ulterior motive. And she couldn’t imagine what that would be.
When it came to defining her feelings for Zane, Lesley wasn’t entirely sure what she felt. Love was difficult to explain. Over the years she’d come to recognize that it had little to do with beauty, passion or romance.
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