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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.
