Page 38 of Zane

"I see," he murmured, even though that was far from the truth. "Ah, this is very good." He reached for the glass and took a gulp, thinking to ease his parched throat.

"Thank you." Her eyes twinkled, and he had a feeling she was laughing at him. "I hadn't seen you in a few days. Thought you had gone elsewhere."

"I was busy," he muttered. "There's a project-"

"Ah, yes." She was trying her best to appear in control and was failing. Up close, Zane Stanhope was the most virile man she had ever come across, and he was twisting her nerves into pieces. "I've read about the progress. It's an admirable project your company has undertaken."

Safe topic, he decided. Best to stick with it for the time being, he mused.

"We've gotten the entire community involved."

Kara nodded, feeling her insides settling slightly. She had to gain control for the second phase of the evening, the most important part of it.

"You had some trouble initially."

He nodded. "Drug runners and the former occupants of the old warehouse and burned-out buildings took offense at being uprooted." He polished off his meal and leaned back with his wine. "Fire destroyed most of the buildings five years ago, and the area was taken over by criminal elements. They were comfortably established and resented the intrusion."

He answered her questions for the next few minutes and allowed her to steer the conversation.

Chapter 10

She gave him a tour after they consumed the sumptuous tiramisu and excellent coffee. A tour he could barely concentrate on. She went before him, forcing him to watch as the silk slid and slithered over her subtle curves. He vaguely heard mention of the rooms they entered: a small, cozy library tucked under the stairs, a bright yellow salon with a piano beneath the window overlooking the garden, a teal blue powder room with scrupulously tidy decor and fancy-looking towels draped artistically over the hanger.

A back door led to a deck overflowing with flowers and herbs. Then they headed upstairs, and he wondered if this was the moment and whether or not he was ready.

Then she confounded him by opening the door to a room dedicated to art. Colors spilled out of every corner, and the space was surprisingly chaotic.

She laughed at the surprised look on his face.

"I'm usually as neat as a pin."

"Hard not to notice." He wandered in, picking up a canvas with a hauntingly beautiful landscape. The colors were bold, bleeding into each other. There were small treasures, objets d'art. Small sculptures, glass, thin and transparent, a clash of colors again. Quilts and rugs strewn in a heap on the solid board floor.

"Planning on having a garage sale?"

"No. I love antique shopping." She picked up a wooden rocking horse. "I bought this at a garage sale a few weeks ago."

"You surprise me," he murmured, tawny eyes studying her face.

"Why?"

"There are so many different facets."

"Are there?" Putting the rocking horse down, she walked to the door and waited for him to follow. This time, the door she opened led to a sitting room with cool pastel colors of blush pink and the palest of yellow. This was her, he thought. The throw pillows on the cream sofa, the frilly curtains at the window.

When she stepped into the bedroom, one with the same color scheme, he stopped dead.

"I thought I would set the mood." She walked to the middle of the room and turned to look at him. "What do you think?"

There were candles everywhere. Fat ones of varying colors. On the side tables, the dresser, a table in front of the love seat. A bucket of champagne was chilling on one of the tables, and flowers speared from a beautiful rose pink vase next to it. She had gone to a lot of trouble.

"It's-" He had to clear his throat and realized that he was clearly out of his depth. "It's a lot."

"Is that good?"

"Undoubtedly." He dragged his eyes to her face and saw that she wasn't as controlled as she pretended to be. "Kara, what exactly changed your mind about me?"

"Is that so important?"