Can't Wait for Love Page 4

  He kissed her again, gently this time. Her mouth met his, her lips warm, wet and pliable. His body reacted instinctively to hers. He braced his hands on the wall on each side of her, uncertain that he could withstand the pleasure and not embarrass them both.

  She stilled immediately and Zane guessed that she hadn’t realized what she was doing to him.

  A noise at the other side of the barn told him they were no longer alone. He broke away from Lesley, and when she stumbled forward, he caught her by the shoulders.

  “Who’s there?” he barked, resenting the intrusion.

  “Carl.”

  “Where have you been?” he called into the darkness.

  “Town.” They remained on opposite sides of the barn, and neither one seemed pleased to happen upon the other.

  “Who’s with you?” The question came from Carl.

  “Lesley Walker.”

  “Who?”

  Zane heard Lesley’s light laugh.

  “Lesley Walker,” she called out herself. “The architect.”

  “Is everything all right with the horses?”

  “Yes,” Zane snapped, wishing his friend would leave.

  “All right, all right,” Carl muttered. Zane heard the door open and close and heaved a sigh of relief. He’d been angry and impatient with Carl when he should be grateful his friend had intervened when he had. He didn’t know how much longer he would have been able to hold on to his control. He’d sensed from the first that Lesley had the power to make him weak, but he hadn’t realized just how compelling she was.

  “Let’s get inside the house,” he said, taking her by the hand. Guided by the candle Mrs. Applegate had left burning in the kitchen window, they raced into the night. The distance wasn’t great, but by the time they reached the back steps, Zane’s thigh felt as if it were on fire. He made it up three steps before his leg gave out on him.

  “Zane,” Lesley cried, coming back for him.

  “I’m all right,” he snapped, not wanting her help. With difficulty, he righted himself, using the railing for leverage.

  Lesley stood in the pounding rain, ready to assist should he need her. He bit back the words to tell her to stay away from him and would have uttered them had he found the strength.

  Blinded by pain, he stumbled onto the back porch. Moisture fell in droplets down his neck. The water ran like cold fingers down his back.

  He made it to the kitchen and into a chair before he collapsed, his shoulders heaving with the effort. Lesley was there in an instant with a towel. That she would be witness to this weakness deeply upset him.

  The kitchen door swung open and the housekeeper stepped inside. “You’re back,” she said cheerfully. “I was beginning to wonder what was taking so long.” It was then that she noticed Lesley was soaked to the skin. “Oh, dear, look at you two. You’ll catch your death of cold.”

  “I’m fine,” Lesley insisted.

  “I insist you get out of those wet things this instant,” his housekeeper continued. “Mr. Zane must have something that will fit you, dear. And don’t you dare think about driving back to the city on a night like this. I’ll have a bed made up for you in a jiffy. We absolutely insist that you spend the night. Isn’t that right, Mr. Zane?”

  He glared at the older woman and noticed that her mouth was wreathed in the biggest smile he’d ever seen. This was exactly what she wanted. Exactly what she’d planned from the first.

  CHAPTER THREE

  LESLEY WOKE WITH A START, AND sat up in bed. Her heart pounded solidly against her chest as she surveyed her surroundings. She remembered immediately that she was in Zane’s home, and that Mrs. Applegate had insisted she spend the night because of the storm. Lesley hadn’t needed a crystal ball to realize that Zane wasn’t nearly as eager as his housekeeper for her company.

  Lying back, her head nestled against the feather pillow, Lesley reviewed the events of the evening. Zane had approved of her remodeling ideas. They’d pored over the plans for two hours without either one of them aware of the time. Zane had asked her to stay for dinner and then the storm had struck with a vengeance. Because of the thunder and lightning, they’d gone out to the barn to quiet the horses. That was when Zane had kissed her.

  Lesley closed her eyes at the memory, longing to recapture the incredible sensation his kisses had aroused. She doubted that she would ever fully understand her immediate and intimate response to this man. Logically, she reminded herself she knew little more than the bare facts about Zane. He knew nothing more of her, either. They were strangers, fighting an attraction as powerful as the strongest magnets. It seemed that a force greater than either one of them was pulling them toward each other. For what purpose, Lesley could only speculate.

  A glance at the illuminated dial of her cell phone told her it was ten minutes after three. It would be hours yet before anyone was up and about. Yet, Lesley doubted she would be able to sleep any longer.

  She slipped out of bed, and as quietly as possible opened her bedroom door. Briefly she wondered if the electricity had come back on. The question was answered for her. The soft glow of a gentle light showed below, coming from the library.

  Lesley donned the housecoat Mrs. Applegate had left for her. It nearly went around her twice. Looping the sash closed, she padded barefoot down the stairs.

  Standing in the library doorway, Lesley realized the dancing flames of the fire provided what light was available. Flickering shadows danced against the walls. A moan captured her attention before she noticed Zane. He sat in the chair with his head tossed back. He gritted his teeth as he rubbed his hand down his injured thigh.

  Had she given any thought to what she should do, Lesley realized later, it would have been exactly the opposite of what she did, which was to rush to his side.

  “Zane.” She knelt on the floor, next to him. “What’s wrong? Can I get you anything?”

  He opened his eyes and seemed startled to find her there. “No. Just go away.” He ground out the order between clenched teeth.

  “No,” she returned just as adamantly. “Tell me what to I can do.” She felt nearly frantic, unable to bear seeing him in this amount of pain. Earlier in the kitchen, she realized that his leg was hurting him, but it was nothing like this.

  “Nothing. You can do nothing,” he insisted coldly. He glared at her, silently willing her to leave him, but Lesley refused to budge.

  She watched the muscle of his thigh spasm, and because she felt helpless and utterly useless, she placed her hand over his. Her relief was great when he didn’t push it aside. Together they worked, vigorously kneading the knotted flesh, working out the cramp. Gradually she could feel the muscle relax.

  Breathing heavily, Zane went lax. He dropped his arms and she continued to gently massage the muscle. When she happened to glance up, she noticed he was studying her. His gaze, which had been cutting and angry seconds earlier, was tender now.

  “I woke you?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper. The spasm seemed to have drained him of all strength.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what woke me. I thought the lights had come back on.”

  “Not yet.”

  “I came down to read. I didn’t realize you were here.”

  Zane’s hand briefly cupped her cheek, his touch light and tender. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  She leaned back on her haunches. “I understand.”

  “My leg does that sometimes, without rhyme or reason, but the spasms don’t generally last this long.”

  She remembered their dash from the barn to the house and realized the physical exertion had probably contributed to this seizure. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, thinking she was probably responsible for this. He would never have felt the need to run for cover if it hadn’t been for her.

  “You’re sorry for my leg?”

  She nodded and explained her reasoning. “You haven’t been to bed yet. Has your leg ached all evening?”

  “No.” His intense look held hers for a moment before he sipped from a glass of amber liquid. “I didn’t trust myself to go upstairs.”

  Lesley didn’t understand. “Trust yourself?”

  A smile that wasn’t one of amusement edged up the good side of his mouth. “You tempt me, Lesley, almost more than I can resist.”

  The low, seductive lilt to his voice made his words the most incredibly beautiful ones Lesley had ever heard.

  “I don’t know what would have happened if Carl hadn’t come into the barn when he did.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I don’t generally…I mean—”

  He stopped her before she completed the thought. His voice was hoarse and low. “I realize that.”

  Lesley wasn’t sure who moved first. It was like it had been earlier, both needing each other, both throwing off their restraints and giving in to the impulse. Only, the impulse was fast becoming a compulsion.

  His mouth found hers, his lips warm and moist. He tasted of fine brandy and tenderness. It seemed they were barely able to get enough of each other. Her need was as greedy and demanding as his. Shivers shot down her spine as she leaned into him. She felt warm and wonderful. Loved and needed.

  “I was afraid something like this would happen,” he whispered against her ear. His warm breath stirred her hair. Her knees ached from kneeling on the carpet, but she didn’t want to move. Their position was awkward for him, too, but neither of them was willing to move.

  “Is it true?”

  “What?” he whispered.

  “You said I tempt you.”

  He moaned softly and kissed her with a wild kind of hunger.

  When Zane abruptly ended the kiss, Lesley moaned in protest. He stood and led her to the sofa. He undid the sash completely and peeled open the robe. Mrs. Applegate’s pajama top was several sizes too large.

  “Zane,” Lesley whispered, her hand stilling his. This was happening too fast and she needed a clear head.

  “Shh,” he whispered, and bent forward and buried his face in the gentle slope of her neck, kissing her there. An electrical jolt of sensation shot through Lesley. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. The emptiness inside her began to ache. The desire she felt was physical as well as mental. All these months, all these years she’d been telling herself that she was perfectly content without a man in her life. She had her career, and wonderful friends. She found satisfaction in her outside interests.

  Within the space of one evening Zane had proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’d been kidding herself. The longing for a husband and eventually children went soul deep and could no longer be denied.

  Zane made a low rough sound as he sought her mouth once more in a tumultuous kiss that left them both breathless. Lesley wasn’t sure how much more of this foreplay either of them could take without giving in to their physical needs. The question had just formed in her mind when the electricity returned. The lamp snapped back on, the force of the light momentarily blinding her.

  Zane froze, then swore quietly under his breath. When he eased away from her, Lesley could tell how hard he battled to control his body and his frustration.

  “Zane…”

  He silenced her with a gentle kiss. “A little reality is what we both needed just then. The timing couldn’t have been better.”

  “I want you.” It embarrassed her to be so bold. Seconds earlier she’d been the one to put a stop to what was happening and now she was almost begging him to make love to her.

  “No.” His response was flat and hard. “We barely know each other.”

  “I know enough.”

  “No,” he said again with the same degree of firmness. “You don’t know me, and once you do, I can guarantee you won’t like the man I am.”

  Lesley objection was immediate. “I’m crazy about you already. There’s something between us, Zane. Don’t try to deny it. I felt it the first time we met. You did, too. I realize it sounds crazy, but it’s true. I haven’t stopped thinking about you. You haven’t stopped thinking about me, either. Admit it.” She was desperate to have him say the words. When he didn’t answer her right away, she said it again, louder this time. “Admit it!”

  “Yes,” he said forcefully. “But that changes nothing. You’re the architect I hired for a remodeling job. I didn’t bring you here to satisfy my baser needs. Not when that kind of thing can be so easily bought elsewhere.”

  Lesley gasped at the hard edge to his words. She fumbled in her efforts to close the overly large robe.

  “For the love of heaven, Lesley, go back upstairs.”

  She leapt away from him as if someone had pried her with a cattle prod. Certain now that her cheeks had heated to a deep fire engine red, she pressed her hands against her stomach, afraid she might be sick.

  “Is it necessary to insult me?” she asked in a whisper.

  His face hardened. “Go upstairs. Please.”

  “We’re going to talk about this in the morning,” she insisted, pivoting on her heel. By then she would have reasoned everything out and made sense of what was happening.

  “Good night, Lesley.”

  He couldn’t wait to be rid of her, but it wasn’t because he didn’t want her. He hadn’t fooled her by claiming another woman would serve him just as well. He wanted her and it was eating him alive. Furthermore, he seemed to think that once she left the room, his need would slowly dissipate. But he was wrong. Zane wouldn’t be able to forget her, not after what had passed between them. He wouldn’t be able to forget her any more than she would him.

  Upstairs and alone once again, Lesley was convinced she wouldn’t be able to return to sleep, but time proved her wrong. Her dreams were filled with Zane.

  She woke at eight, feeling refreshed and excited. Lingering in bed, she kept her eyes closed as she held on to the last dredges of her dreams, which had been wonderful.

  She pictured herself on the front lawn with Zane and two small children. The four of them appeared deliriously happy.

  Had she shared her fantasy with a counselor, Lesley was sure the mental-health professional would suggest she was a candidate for therapy. She’d seen Zane all of two times, and already her mind had conjured up marriage and two children. Talk about projecting one’s desires into dreams!

  After she’d dressed, Lesley came down the stairs and found Mrs. Applegate in the kitchen.

  “Good morning, dearie,” the housekeeper greeted brightly. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Like a log,” Lesley confessed as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “What would you like for breakfast?”

  “Orange juice and toast,” Lesley answered absently. “Where’s Zane?” She hadn’t seen him on her way down the stairs, not that she expected him to be waiting for her, but she’d hoped.

  “Mr. Zane had to leave early this morning.”

  “Oh.” She didn’t bother to hide her disappointment.

  Mrs. Applegate opened the refrigerator and took out a plastic container filled with orange juice. “He asked me to tell you he made several notes on the remodeling plans.”

  Lesley took a sip of the juice the housekeeper poured for her. “Great. I’ll look them over and get back to him directly. You wouldn’t happen to know which day would be best for me to stop by, would you?”

  “Mr. Zane…”

  “Yes?” Lesley prodded.

  “He said it would be best if you mailed any changes to him. He wanted me to tell you that his schedule is full, and that he doesn’t have any time to meet with you again.” The housekeeper looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I know for a fact that isn’t true. Mr. Zane has plenty of time. All he thinks about is this project.”

  Lesley swallowed down the bitter pill of rejection. “I see.”

  “I’m sorry, dear.”

  “No, no,” Lesley responded with false enthusiasm. “Tell him for me that I’ll be happy to mail the plans. And—” she hesitated and set the glass of juice aside “—tell him goodbye for me.” Her voice faded to a thin thread of sound.

  “It’s his leg,” Mrs. Applegate insisted. “Some nights it hurts him something fierce, and he isn’t himself. He must have had one of his bad nights because he didn’t look like he’d been to bed. Be patient with him.” The older woman’s eyes pleaded with Lesley.

  “I can only do as he asks,” Lesley said.

  “But he doesn’t know what he really wants,” Mrs. Applegate insisted. “Not when his leg’s aching. Now, you listen to me, dearie, life is much too short to give up so easily.”

  “Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs. Applegate, but I need to get back to the city.” She smiled at the older woman and left the kitchen.

  Zane had made his feelings clear. He didn’t want to see her again.

  * * *

  Candy Hoffman hated to admit it, but Carl’s words had hit their mark. His question about whether she was male or female had hurt far more than she’d wanted to let on. She’d driven away with a lump in her throat that felt as if it would choke her. But she refused to give Carl the satisfaction of reducing her to tears. By heaven, she was a woman. All right, she didn’t dress in fancy frilly things the way others did, but that didn’t make her something she wasn’t.

  Leave it to Carl Saks to find her weakest link and verbally attack her. Well, she was going to teach that man a lesson. The local Grange was sponsoring a dinner and dance Saturday night and for the first time since her father died and she took over running the feed store, Candy planned on attending.

  Although she felt awkward, she put on makeup and dressed to the nines. The skirt, the same one she’d worn in college, was a little snug around the waist, but it still fit. She tried to remember the last time she’d worn it and realized it must have been five or more years back. The black leather boots went well with the outfit. She hadn’t done much with her hair in the past couple of years and was surprised how easily it took to a curling iron.

  When she was finished, she squirted on a little perfume and coughed when the fumes got in her nose. She’d had the bottle for ten years or better and was amazed it hadn’t completely dried up, although it was about as potent as moonshine.