Just Married Read online

  Just Married

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  Debbie Macomber

  A Marriage of Convenience

  Former mercenary Zane Ackerman wants a family. In particular, he wants a child who’ll be his legacy—and his heir. That’s because his upcoming mission might be his last, and it’s made him all too aware of his own mortality.

  Architect Lesley Walker wants a family, too. She craves a baby of her own.

  So Zane suggests a marriage of convenience to give them both what they want. But given the intense attraction they feel, this arrangement is becoming less convenient all the time!

  Look for more heartwarming titles from New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber, available now from Harlequin MIRA!

  Other titles by Debbie Macomber now available wherever Harlequin ebooks are sold:

  Blossom Street Books

  The Shop on Blossom Street

  A Good Yarn

  Susannah’s Garden

  Back on Blossom Street

  Twenty Wishes

  Summer on Blossom Street

  Hannah’s List

  The Knitting Diaries: "The Twenty-First Wish"

  A Turn in the Road

  Cedar Cove Books

  16 Lighthouse Road

  204 Rosewood Lane

  311 Pelican Court

  44 Cranberry Point

  50 Harbor Street

  6 Rainier Drive

  74 Seaside Avenue

  8 Sandpiper Way

  92 Pacific Boulevard

  1022 Evergreen Place

  A Cedar Cove Christmas (5-B Poppy Lane and Christmas in Cedar Cove)

  1105 Yakima Street

  1225 Christmas Tree Lane

  Dakota Series

  Dakota Born

  Dakota Home

  Always Dakota

  The Manning Family

  The Manning Sisters

  The Manning Brides

  The Manning Grooms

  Christmas Books

  A Gift to Last

  On a Snowy Night

  Home for the Holidays

  Glad Tidings

  Christmas Wishes

  Small Town Christmas

  When Christmas Comes (now retitled Trading Christmas)

  There’s Something About Christmas

  Christmas Letters

  Where Angels Go

  The Perfect Christmas

  Angels at Christmas (Those Christmas Angels and Where Angels Go)

  Call Me Mrs. Miracle

  Heart of Texas Series

  VOLUME 1 (Lonesome Cowboy and Texas Two-Step)

  VOLUME 2 (Caroline’s Child and Dr. Texas)

  VOLUME 3 (Nell’s Cowboy and Lone Star Baby)

  Promise, Texas

  Return to Promise

  Midnight Sons

  VOLUME 1 (Brides for Brothers and The Marriage Risk)

  VOLUME 2 (Daddy’s Little Helper and Because of the Baby)

  VOLUME 3 (Falling for Him, Ending in Marriage and Midnight Sons and Daughters)

  This Matter of Marriage

  Montana

  Thursdays at Eight

  Between Friends

  Changing Habits

  Married in Seattle (First Comes Marriage and Wanted: Perfect Partner)

  Right Next Door (Father’s Day and The Courtship of Carol Sommars)

  The Man You’ll Marry (The First Man You Meet and The Man You’ll Marry)

  Orchard Valley Grooms (Valerie and Stephanie)

  Orchard Valley Brides (Norah and Lone Star Lovin’)

  The Sooner the Better

  An Engagement in Seattle (Groom Wanted and Bride Wanted)

  Debbie Macomber’s Cedar Cove Cookbook

  Debbie Macomber’s Christmas Cookbook

  To Lillian Schauer, Attorney Extraordinaire.

  Pam, Ruth and Wanda

  This one’s for you.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter One

  ZANE LOVED THIS OLD HOUSE. It represented everything that he’d never had as a child. Love. Warmth. Security. Happiness. The massive, three-story structure had once been in the family, but had been sold after the death of his grandfather fifteen years ago. Zane owned the house now, and he intended to make up for the years of neglect it had suffered.

  He leaned against the support column on the wide veranda that circled the grand home. As it had in his childhood, the view of Lake Michigan mesmerized him, calming his spirit. There was peace here, something that had been sadly lacking in his life up to this point. He was a man who’d willingly involved himself in war, and over the years he’d been paid handsomely for his services.

  Almost unconsciously, he rubbed the ache in his injured leg. The pain worsened as the day progressed, not that he minded the discomfort. It reminded him that he was alive and that two of his men, two of his friends, were not. It reminded him that he had yet to seek his vengeance.

  Zane walked to the end of the porch, recalling his days as a child when he’d raced with careless abandon across the lush green lawn. There would be no more children chasing butterflies and dreams here. No children who would hide on the limbs of the maple tree and imitate the chatter of the birds. At least none he would father.

  The state of disrepair that had fallen upon the house had shocked Zane. The housekeeper he’d hired five months earlier to care for the place had said little of its condition. Upon his arrival three months ago, Zane immediately ordered repairs. It soon became evident that a new furnace and updated electrical system would only scratch the surface of what was required.

  That was when he’d decided to call Jordan Larabee, a good friend and a well-known Chicago contractor. Jordan had recommended that Lesley Walker, an architect, have a look at the house and offer suggestions. Zane agreed to talk to the woman.

  He had to admit that he was going through a lot of trouble and expense for a house he didn’t plan to live in long enough to enjoy.

  A car turned off the main road and into his driveway. Zane checked his watch. Lesley Walker was punctual—he’d say that for her. The car slowed and pulled to a stop in the circular driveway in front of the house.

  The door to the driver’s side opened and one long, shapely leg appeared. The body that followed fulfilled the promise of that one leg. The woman was tall, agile and strikingly attractive. She wore a gray business suit: jacket and pencil skirt. Zane approved. Her chestnut-colored hair bounced against the top of her shoulders as she turned toward him. Her deep, dark eyes met his and she was unable to hide her shock.

  Occasionally Zane forgot about the scar that marked his face. It started at the corner of his left eye and cut a jagged line that crisscrossed down his cheek, ending below his lip. The scar, like the ache in his leg, was a reminder of a debt yet to be collected.

  In the past year, he’d discovered how uncomfortable the general public was with physical deformities. He shouldn’t expect Ms. Walker to react differently than anyone else. In her eyes, like in those of the children in the nearby town, he was a monster.

  Zane was mildly surprised when she didn’t look away as others routinely did. Instead, she held his gaze. Most people, he’d discovered, were uneasy with less than perfection. Her eyes softened and something passed between them. Something warm. Something gentle. Something strong.

  Zane was uncomfortable with softness. He’d known little of it in his formative years, a
nd avoided it by choice as an adult. It was a luxury he could ill afford in his chosen profession. As a soldier for hire, he had learned early on to freeze out his emotions. Out of necessity, he held back any part of himself that made him vulnerable.

  “Ms. Walker?” Zane asked crisply and moved toward the porch stairs.

  “Yes, and you must be Zane Ackerman.” She stood in the center of the walkway to examine his home. He noticed the way her gaze widened with appreciation as she took in the front of the house. “This is beautiful.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate you making the drive,” he continued, his voice clipped and businesslike.

  Her gaze turned back to him, and against his will he was drawn into the warm gentleness that surrounded her. “I enjoyed it.”

  She returned to her vehicle, reached inside her car and brought out a thick writing tablet. “I’ll admit Jordan’s phone call piqued my interest.”

  Once again she looked toward the house, and Zane had the opportunity to study her. She was lovely in ways he found difficult to define. If ever he was tempted to get to know a woman, it was now. But Lesley Walker was an emotional luxury he dare not indulge himself with—not while Schuyler lived.

  Zane smiled to himself as he watched the appreciation Lesley felt for his home reveal itself in her eyes. With all its flaws, after years of neglect and indifference, she saw the beauty it had once been and would be again. Lesley Walker looked beyond the superficial—she saw beneath the obvious. Without being aware of what he was doing, his hand went to his face. Only when his fingers touched his scarred cheek did he realize what he’d done. Unnerved by the effect she had on him, he dropped his hand and returned his attention to the architect.

  “I’m so pleased Jordan thought to contact me,” Lesley said with enthusiasm as she walked up to the porch to meet him.

  They exchanged brief handshakes and she handed him a business card. Zane noticed she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring and wondered how it was that a woman he sensed to be as wholesome and maternal as Lesley would not be married.

  “Would you like to see the inside first?” he asked, struggling to maintain emotional distance. It would be far too easy to lower his guard with her, but that was something Zane couldn’t—wouldn’t—allow.

  “I’d love to see the house.”

  Zane led the way through the front door. Many of the rooms were small and he had thought to take down wall open up the living area. He mentioned his ideas for the remodeling project. Without comment, Lesley wrote down his suggestions, then asked a series of pertinent questions, taking note of his responses.

  “I found the original plans for the house tucked away in a cabinet in the library.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take them with me and study them,” she said, as they walked from room to room. Every now and again she pointed out small details he’d barely noticed himself even after a few months.

  When they came to the library, he rolled back the double-wide mahogany doors and waited for her reaction. This was Zane’s favorite room. Rooted in his memory was a picture of his grandfather sitting by the fireplace and reading. It was something he often did himself. Zane spent more time in the library than in any of the other rooms.

  “Oh, my,” Lesley whispered as though she were standing on holy ground. “This is perfect just the way it is—I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  Zane felt that way himself. He wanted nothing altered in this one room, and that she immediately sensed his feelings boded well for her working on this project.

  “Mr. Zane, I was thinking about dinner and—” His housekeeper, Mrs. Applegate, sauntered toward him and stopped abruptly when she realized he wasn’t alone. “Oh, I do apologize. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “It’s no trouble,” he answered, quick to reassure the older woman.

  His cook was a round, gentle soul who made it her mission in life to spoil him, despite his protests. Nothing he said seemed to discourage her from mothering him. After a while, he gave up trying.

  Mrs. Applegate’s eyes twinkled with delight when Zane introduced her to Lesley. “It’s time Mr. Zane brought a woman into this house.”

  “Ms. Walker is the architect I mentioned earlier,” he said, rankled by the way the elderly woman linked him romantically with Lesley.

  “Oh, what a shame.” She looked disappointed. “Once you finish looking over the house, you let me know,” the housekeeper insisted. “I’ll set the tea to brewing and bring it to the library. I’m sure you’re going to have lots to talk over, and there’s no better place to do it than right here with a spot of tea.”

  Zane might have declined if Lesley hadn’t said, “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Mrs. Applegate’s eyes were filled with devilment as she skirted past Zane. Knowing his housekeeper, there would be far more than tea on that tray. He swore the woman baked enough sweets to keep a dentist in practice. Not a day passed when she didn’t set some new confection before him. She seemed to make it her mission in life to put a “little meat on his bones.”

  “What a sweetheart,” Lesley commented, her gaze following the housekeeper.

  Zane’s reply was unintelligible on purpose. He was grateful to Martha Applegate, but he didn’t like the subtle way the woman attempted to work her way into his life. He had a mother, one he preferred to forget, as it happened.

  He’d hired Martha Applegate sight unseen a week after he’d decided to take up residence. He needed someone to open up the house and get things in order before he moved to Sleepy Valley.

  After viewing the library, Zane led Lesley up the stairs to the six bedrooms situated on the second floor. It was difficult for him to make the trek with his bum leg. Pain shot through his thigh as he climbed. He gritted his teeth, unwilling to show his discomfort.

  Once again, as they toured the bedrooms, Lesley made a series of notations and asked him a number of questions. Standing in the narrow hallway outside the master bedroom, she turned full circle, made a note on the tablet and then glanced his way and smiled.

  “How about the kitchen next?”

  “Sure.” It might have been his imagination, but it seemed that her walk slowed as they descended the staircase. Despite the pain, he increased his step, unwilling to accept allowances for his injuries.

  When they entered the kitchen, Mrs. Applegate was nowhere to be seen, which was just as well. Lesley seemed to be filled with enthusiastic ideas. She quickly started to write, her hand moving in a blur over the page. Again she didn’t share her thoughts.

  She happened to look out the kitchen window and then turned to him.

  “Those are the stables,” he explained.

  “And the man?”

  “Carl Saks. He lives in the guest house.” Carl was a friend and a former soldier who’d decided to retire in the same area. He’d been looking for property himself. Unable to sit idle, Carl had become a handyman of sorts around the place. Because of his physical limitations, Zane was grateful for the help.

  When Lesley finished writing, she pressed the notepad against her breast. “I think that about does it, unless there’s something else you’d care to show me.” Her eyes landed on the pot of tea Mrs. Applegate had set out, along with a plate heaped high with a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies.

  Over the years, Zane had developed a sixth sense about danger. It had served him well and saved his sorry butt more times than he could count. A half hour with Lesley Walker and he realized this woman was double jeopardy. The best thing he could do for them both was to get her out of his life. And fast.

  He made a show of looking at his watch. “I believe you’ve seen everything necessary. If you’re finished, I’ll see you to the door.”

  A look of surprise and disappointment showed in her expressive face. The friendliness drained from her eyes and she stiffened into a businesslike stance. “Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Ackerman.”

  He escorted her out of the kitchen, st
opped in the library long enough to retrieve the blueprints he’d mentioned earlier and then led the way to the front entry.

  They exchanged swift handshakes.

  “When can I expect to see your ideas?” he asked, and the eagerness with which he posed the question surprised even him.

  “I can have a rough draft to you next week. Would that be soon enough?”

  “Perfect,” he answered, the lone word abrupt.

  He stood on the porch and waited until she was inside her car before he turned away. The urge to slam the door was almost more than he could resist. The anger that festered inside him was sharp, raw and completely irrational.

  He’d only met Lesley Walker, and if the Fates were with him, the necessity of seeing her again would be minimal. She had yet to pull out of his driveway, and already he was worrying about how long it would be before he could see her again.

  This woman was dangerous. Instinctively Zane recognized the threat she represented to his sanity. It was unfortunate. He would have enjoyed getting to know her but he could see no purpose in developing any kind of relationship when he fully expected to be dead within the year.

  Lesley caught her reflection in the rearview mirror and saw that her mouth had formed into a tight line. “That, my dear,” she whispered to herself, “was a brush-off.” She wondered what she’d said or done to offend the great and mighty Zane Ackerman.

  One thing was sure, he was by far the most unusual man she’d ever met. Compelling. Forceful. Handsome. Even with the scar that ran down one side of his face. And the limp seemed to enhance the sense of overwhelming masculinity.

  When Jordan Larabee had contacted her about this project, he’d been uncharacteristically closemouthed about the man he was sending her to meet. All Jordan had said was that he’d appreciate it if she’d look over the project and get back to him.

  The request was unusual in itself. The fact that it came from Jordan made it more so.

  Lesley worked for one of the largest and best-known architectural firms in Chicago. Remodeling projects were not her expertise. Most recently, she’d worked on the plans for a high-rise apartment complex. She was responsible for the design of a new city library and the year before, a large government building. Jordan knew all that and yet he’d personally requested she be the one to look at Zane Ackerman’s home.