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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.
