Can't Wait for Love Read online

  In the time since her breakup with Jordan, she had dated a number of men. But they seemed to fall into two distinct classifications: the disillusioned and the unfit. She wasn’t interested in either group.

  As she drove down the long driveway that led back to the highway, Lesley realized that because she was interested in the house, she hadn’t paid any attention to the view of Lake Michigan. Now the view flashed before her like a shooting star blazing across a velvet night. She literally slammed her foot on the brake.

  The car jolted to an abrupt stop. For a moment she did nothing but sit and stare, the view as spectacular as any she’d seen. The blue sky reflected upon the water’s white-capped surface like a shiny mirror. Gulls circled overhead and fluffy clouds billowed past.

  Hardly aware of what she was doing, Lesley turned off the engine and climbed out of the vehicle. She didn’t mean to trespass as she walked across the large expanse of manicured lawn, but she couldn’t help herself.

  She’d wandered some distance when she stumbled upon a viewpoint. A stone bench sat at the edge of the drop-off. Clusters of blooming red roses scented the afternoon air.

  After standing and admiring the view for several moments, Lesley sat down and breathed in the calm beauty of the scene before her. Water stretched for as far as the eye could see. Sailboats with their bright spinnakers dotted the surface. Motorboats zoomed past, their wakes rippling wider and wider swells.

  For no reason Lesley could understand, emotion clogged her throat. It was as though this house, this property…this man lured her very soul.

  She’d sensed it the moment she’d turned into the driveway. Felt it to the very marrow of her bones. The house had called out to her like a wailing spirit. A small voice buried deep inside her heart had welcomed her home. Because she was practical, she’d refused to believe, refused to listen.

  That was when she first noticed Zane standing on the porch, waiting for her arrival. One look at the forceful, enigmatic man and she had felt as though all the oxygen had emptied from her lungs. Never had she reacted to a man quite this way.

  Even now she was left to wonder what had happened between them those first few moments. Neither chose to voice whatever it was, and both seemed equally uncomfortable with the force of the attraction.

  Later, Zane couldn’t seem to get rid of her fast enough, and Lesley was convinced that whatever had transpired had all been one-sided.

  Now she wasn’t so sure.

  A sound behind her alerted her to the fact that she was no longer alone. Lesley stood and turned to face the man who’d dominated her thoughts from the moment they’d met.

  Zane sat atop a black gelding, his dark gaze focused on her. “I thought you’d left.”

  Embarrassed to have been found trespassing, Lesley cleared her throat and licked her lips before she forced herself to smile. “Hello again,” she greeted. Zane made an intimidating figure sitting atop the sleek Arabian, staring down on her. Because the sun was behind him, it made it all the more difficult to read his expression, but she couldn’t help feeling that he was displeased to find her still on his property. “I hope you don’t mind that I stopped to admire the view.”

  The temperamental gelding jerked his head, and shifted his two hind legs in an impatient two-step. With a flick of the reins, Zane quieted the imposing beast.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” Lesley added, hoping that was explanation enough. She glanced at her watch, startled by how much time had passed. It seemed she’d only been a matter of minutes, but she’d been sitting there nearly an hour.

  She should say something, anything, but it was as if his happening upon her had frozen her thought processes. She knew that had she tried to explain, she would have made an even greater fool of herself, which was something she wasn’t eager to do. She didn’t know what Zane must think of her.

  “This was my grandmother’s favorite spot,” Zane surprised her by saying. He didn’t sound displeased with her. If anything, she heard puzzlement in his voice, as if she were the last person he expected to find on his property.

  “Your grandmother?” she repeated, not realizing that there was a family connection with the house.

  “The house belonged to my grandparents,” he admitted gruffly, as though he resented her knowing even this small bit of information. The Arabian’s impatient jig continued. “How much longer do you intend to stay?”

  “I really must get back to the office. I should have left right away. I’m sorry if I did something I shouldn’t have.” She backed away from him.

  “It’s fine, Lesley,” he said so softly, she wasn’t sure Zane was the one who’d spoken or if it was that small voice she’d heard earlier. The voice in her own heart. The one that had welcomed her with open arms.

  * * *

  Lesley didn’t sleep that night. Every time she closed her eyes, it was Zane Ackerman’s face that came into view. He’d been both abrupt and unfriendly, and yet she was physically drawn to him with a force so powerful, it left her senses reeling.

  The next morning the first thing Lesley did when she reached the office was put a call through to Jordan Larabee.

  “How do you know Zane Ackerman?” she asked without so much as greeting him.

  “Good morning to you, too,” Jordan said, his amusement echoing over the line. “I take it you drove out to meet Zane yesterday.”

  “Yes.”

  “How is he, by the way?”

  “Fine. I take it he’s a friend of yours.”

  “We go way back.”

  “Tell me about him.” After a sleepless night, Lesley wasn’t up to playing cat-and-mouse games with Jordan.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Is he married?” That this would be the first question she put before him shocked her. Although the question had been paramount in her mind, she never intended to blurt it out. She hoped to ease into it with far more subtlety.

  To her dismay, Jordan laughed outright. “So that’s the way the ball bounces?”

  “What do you mean by that?” She sounded defensive, and that irritated her all the more.

  “You’re irresistibly drawn to his bad-boy image. Well, Lesley, I hate to say it, but you aren’t alone. I’ve never met a woman who wasn’t intrigued by Zane Ackerman. I don’t know what it is about him, but whatever it is, he’s got it in spades.”

  “I’m not interested in him that way,” she said with far less conviction than she felt.

  “And pigs fly.”

  “He was rude and he couldn’t seem to get me out of his house fast enough.”

  “That’s Zane all right.”

  Her comments seemed to amuse Jordan.

  “What happened to him? The injuries look recent.”

  “He never said,” Jordan answered, “and I never asked.”

  Lesley bit her lower lip. “I fell in love with the house. I’m working on another project now, but I’ll look over my notes and get back to you by the end of the week.”

  “Perfect,” Jordan responded, but he sounded distracted. Like her, Jordan was a busy man. Neither one of them had time for chitchat. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  “Thanks, Les,” Jordan said affectionately. “I appreciate you doing this, and I know Zane does, too.”

  “I’m glad to help.” As she replaced the receiver, Lesley wondered if she’d feel the same way later. She had the distinct impression that this assignment wasn’t going to be like her normal projects.

  * * *

  Zane wandered down to the breakfast table early the following morning. Mrs. Applegate was humming cheerfully to herself as she stood in front of the stove.

  “Such a nice young woman,” she said, smiling over at Zane as she poured him a cup of coffee.

  “Who?” he asked, pretending not to know.

  “That architect who stopped by yesterday afternoon.”

  Zane didn’t respond one way or another. An achy, restless feeling
had come over him the moment Lesley Walker had driven away. The sensation had stayed with him all night. Generally, the pain in his leg was what kept him awake. Not thoughts of a woman. Especially one he barely knew. One thing was certain, he had no intention of furthering the relationship.

  The back door opened and Carl stepped inside the kitchen. “Morning,” he grumbled with a decided lack of friendliness. He walked over to where Zane sat and pulled out a chair. “I’ve been thinking of changing feed stores,” his friend announced starkly. Carl had taken over ordering the supplies and other duties to keep himself from going stir-crazy.

  “I thought we got a good price at Hoffman Feed.”

  Mrs. Applegate delivered plates heaped with crisp fried bacon, eggs and toast to the two men.

  “The prices are fine,” Carl answered before digging into his breakfast. He ate like a man who feared this would be his last meal.

  Zane knew the man well enough to realize something was troubling Carl, and he suspected it had little to do with the local feed store. To the best of his knowledge, Carl had been buying whatever he needed from the same place since the horses had been delivered. Their prices were fair and Zane preferred to do business locally. But if Carl wanted to drive another twenty miles to another feed store, Zane figured that was his business.

  “You got a problem with Hoffman Feed?”

  Carl paused, the fork poised in front of his mouth while he analyzed the question. “I don’t much care for sassy women.”

  Zane lowered his head in an effort to hide his amusement. So Carl had clashed swords with Candy Hoffman again. It wasn’t the first time the two had created sparks.

  “I saw a woman wandering around the grounds yesterday. Who was she?” Carl asked.

  “The architect,” Zane answered without elaborating.

  “A real sweetheart, too, if you ask me,” Mrs. Applegate called from the other side of the kitchen.

  Zane hadn’t asked, but he knew if he mentioned it his housekeeper would ignore him, and so he said nothing.

  “She was a pretty thing,” Carl said. “Will she be visiting again anytime soon?”

  “I don’t know.” Zane eyed his fellow soldier, disliking the interest Carl revealed in Lesley.

  “If she does, how about an introduction?”

  Zane wasn’t keen on that one bit, but before he could say so, Mrs. Applegate approached the table and set down a plate of hot-from-the-oven cinnamon rolls. “She isn’t the one for you.”

  “Who isn’t?” Carl barked the question as he reached for a roll, burning his fingers in the process. He licked his fingertips and cursed under his breath.

  “Candy Hoffman has her eye on you,” the housekeeper informed him.

  Carl didn’t bother hiding his irritation. “That woman’s meaner than a beaver with a broomstick up her butt.”

  Mrs. Applegate chuckled, and shook her head. “That’s not the way I see it. It seems to me you’re just as sweet on her, only you don’t like it. Come to think of it, Candy isn’t all that pleased about it neither.”

  Carl snorted loudly. “I’d rather be skinned alive than have anything more to do with that woman. She’s unreasonable, irrational, pigheaded, and that’s just for starters. If I never see her again, it’d suit me just fine.” Having said that much, Carl leapt up from the chair and headed out the door. He turned back abruptly and reached for the cinnamon roll. “I’ll be buying the feed elsewhere,” he said in a way that challenged Zane to defy him.

  “Get it wherever you want,” Zane told him.

  Carl cast a triumphant look toward the housekeeper and headed out the back door. To his surprise, Mrs. Applegate burst out laughing. “Life’s too short for green bananas.”

  Baffled, Zane studied the older woman. She had a habit of saying the most nonsensical things, and then looking for him to agree with her.

  Zane raised both hands. “I’m staying out of this,” he announced.

  The housekeeper didn’t seem to mind.

  One thing she’d said did make sense. Life was too short, and for him, it was getting shorter every day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “I SAY HE’S LIKELY A GANGSTER.”

  The words struck Lesley as odd, and captured her attention. She’d stopped to fill up her car with gas in Sleepy Valley, the community closest to Zane’s home.

  The gas station attendant filling the vehicle in the space next to hers slowly shook his head. “Just because he’s up there in that huge house all alone doesn’t make him a hit man.”

  “It ain’t normal, living up there the way he does.” The middle-aged man in the car parked in the space close to Lesley wasn’t so easily swayed. “Makes me wonder if anyone asked the right questions before letting him move into our community. We’ve got a responsibility to the good people in this town.”

  “He isn’t alone,” the attendant contradicted. “Martha Applegate is keeping his house, and from what Candy Hoffman said, there’s another man there, as well.”

  “Yeah, but it isn’t anyone we know.”

  The station attendant scratched the side of his head. “I can’t say that I’ve talked to him, but he minds his own business, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, but exactly what type of business is he minding?” the man standing by the car asked. “That’s what worries me.”

  The men exchanged knowing looks.

  “When was the last time he came into town ?”

  “I haven’t got a clue. Personally I’ve only seen him the one time.”

  “That’s what I thought. He mostly keeps to himself. It ain’t natural—that’s all I’m saying.”

  The attendant who took Lesley’s credit card paused in the middle of his task. “My guess is he’s involved in drugs.”

  “Drugs,” the customer repeated as if this were a new thought.

  Lesley managed to smother a giggle. She could well imagine what Zane would say if he were listening in on this conversation himself. He’d be as amused as she was. Amused or outraged, she wasn’t sure which.

  “Some people say he’s a monster,” Lesley said, unable to keep quiet any longer.

  The man in the space opposite hers turned and stared at her. “It makes one wonder what happened to his face, doesn’t it?”

  “I can’t understand why he doesn’t have reconstructive surgery,” the attendant said. “Seems to me that someone who could afford to live in that house wouldn’t be hurting for money.”

  “Maybe he likes the idea of frightening children.”

  “Children, nothing. He makes my blood run cold every time I see him.” The customer closed his eyes and cringed.

  Lesley finished paying for her gas. It was difficult to keep a straight face, but she managed. And people thought women gossiped!

  By the time she arrived at Zane’s house, Lesley’s amusement had turned to resentment. It irritated her that people could be so cruel. Zane was no more a drug lord than she was, and as for him keeping to himself…well, everyone was entitled to privacy.

  She rang the doorbell and waited. Mrs. Applegate opened the front door. The moment she saw Lesley, the housekeeper’s face brightened with a warm smile.

  “It’s so good to see you again, dearie. Mr. Zane’s out, but he’ll be back any minute. You make yourself comfortable in the library and I’ll bring you a spot of tea.” She led the way into the room that Lesley had loved best.

  “I’m sure Mr. Zane will be along shortly.”

  “It’s no problem, Mrs. Applegate. I’m early.” Lesley had given herself plenty of time to make the drive in from the heart of Chicago. Being that it was Friday, she had fully anticipated running into heavy weekend traffic.

  But her eagerness had a lot more to do with seeing Zane again than with any traffic problems. Far more. She needed to see him. Needed to test this strange attraction. The fact of the matter was that she’d left the office far earlier than necessary, and very little of her reason had to do with the renovation project.

  In the past week
, Lesley had devoted hour upon hour to this remodeling project, far and above what time she’d originally allotted. She studied the original blueprints, blending her ideas for the renovation in with the original work, modernizing the house so that the new merged naturally with old. Her goal was that anyone who stepped into the house for the first time would never guess that part of the home had been changed.

  True to her word, Mrs. Applegate returned a few moments later with a cup of tea and a thick slice of chocolate cake. She chatted briefly then quietly slipped away.

  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.