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“Sort of a biological clock for men?” she joked.
He chuckled softly. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose you’re right. When I die…”
“But that’s a good many years from now.”
He didn’t respond.
“I’ve given some thought to what my legacy will be, and realized there’ll be nothing in this world to say I’ve lived. Nothing to say that I’ve loved or that I’ve cared. You, on the other hand, will leave a mark with or without a family.”
“You mean the buildings I’ve designed?”
“Yes. But I won’t have anything to pass on. I have no family, no children, and I’ve come to realize those things are important to me.”
He made death sound imminent, as if he gave the subject much thought, and that distressed her. “We certainly have gotten onto a dark subject.”
“We haven’t known each other long,” he said as if she hadn’t spoken. “But I’ve felt a physical and emotional connection with you from the first. I’ve tried to reason it away, tried to pretend it doesn’t exist, but that hasn’t worked.”
Lesley lowered her head. “I’ve felt it, too.”
“You want a child and I want an heir.”
Lesley held her breath, then whispered the question. “What are you saying?”
“I’m asking you to marry me, Lesley.”
CHAPTER SIX
“MARRIAGE,”LESLEY REPEATEDsoftly. The word echoed in her mind as if Zane had shouted it against a canyon wall. Each time it bounced back, she wondered if his proposal was a figment of her imagination. Zane had all but pushed her out of his life; now he was asking her to be a major part of it.
“There’s a good deal to be said in favor of the two of us marrying,” he continued. “I’m a wealthy man. You’ll never need to worry about finances again.”
Lesley bristled. “There’s more than money involved in such a commitment.” It irritated her that he would consider his fortune as his greatest asset.
“You don’t need to give me your answer right away.”
She wanted to ask him about love, but her thoughts remained scrambled and confused. It would seem that Zane must hold some tenderness for her, otherwise he wouldn’t have proposed. Not unless he had an ulterior motive. And she couldn’t imagine what that would be.
When it came to defining her feelings for Zane, Lesley wasn’t entirely sure what she felt. Love was difficult to explain. Over the years she’d come to recognize that it had little to do with beauty, passion or romance.
Three years earlier, she’d thought she was in love with Jordan Larabee. Only later, after he’d reunited with Molly, did she understand that her feelings for him were linked with her almost despairing desire for a husband.
“Do you love me?” She wasn’t sure what made her blurt out the question when she was fully aware of the answer.
Zane didn’t hesitate. “I figured you would ask me about that, and it’s a fair question. One that deserves an answer. But frankly, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Lesley appreciated what it had cost him to be honest, however painful it was for her to hear. It would be a simple matter to justify her response if Zane were to confess an undying need for her. But he hadn’t mentioned his feelings, almost as if they were of little importance.
“I know little of love, little of softness,” he added. “I enjoy your company, and for me that’s enough. As for the physical aspect of our relationship…well, that speaks for itself, doesn’t it?”
“It’s true we seem to be sexually compatible, but that isn’t love.”
“Not entirely,” he was quick to agree.
“My mother loves cats, but my dad is more of a dog person.” she said, thinking off the top of her head, and wondering if she could define her needs to Zane. “Several years ago Dad bought her a calico, which Mom promptly named Whiskers. My mother was crazy over that silly cat. She lavished Whiskers with attention and love. Then Whiskers developed leukemia and had to be put to sleep. My dad was the one who went to the vet’s office with Mom. When she wept, he held her and comforted her. That’s love, Zane.”
“You want me to buy you a cat?”
“No.” Men could be so obtuse. “I’m trying to tell you that I’m not looking for some deep, heart-wrenching confession of undying love from you. Love isn’t glamorous. Sometimes it isn’t even pretty. It’s holding my hand at a movie. It’s helping me to the bathroom when I’m sick. It’s reminding me to wear a sweater when it’s cold outside.”
