Page 2 of Zane

Zane had gone to great pains to alienate his parents and had succeeded grandly. He never wore a suit, preferring his everyday wear of faded jeans and T-shirts. If he were forced to attend a function, he would drag on a jacket over the casual wear. He was so unlike a Stanhope that the press usually had a field day with the stark difference.

He courted trouble and was always present at some down-in-the-dumps dive. Zoe constantly feared for his safety. She knew that he could more than take care of himself, because she had seen him in action and he was always working out. Still, he was the heir of a multi-billion-dollar enterprise, and there were always people who wanted to cash in on that.

"You're thinking too loud." He tapped her on the temple, his expression one of amusement.

"What do you do with your trust fund?" she wondered. They had both come into their inheritance when they turned twenty-five.

"Give it away," he said lightly. "There're people starving, children in abusive homes as well as the homeless," he pointed out. "I'll be damned if I sit in some cushy office defending some rich and entitled asshole while the world goes to hell in a handbasket." Rubbing a hand at the back of his neck, he rose and started pacing.

He turned around to face her, a sudden grin lighting up his face, the dimple in his left cheek peeping out. "You know I'm just messing with you. I've only given away a portion of it."

"They're good parents, Zane." She stared at him with those serious lawyer eyes that made her a tiger in the courtroom and always managed to make him feel just a little small.

"I know."

"They worry about you. So do I."

"There's no need for that. I can take care of myself." He hissed out an impatient breath. "And you can stop giving me that bloody look."

"What look is that?" Her innocent expression did not fool him one bit.

"You know what look." He sighed again and walked over to hunker down in front of her. "You're fortunate that I love you. All right, I'll attend the bloody board meeting and suffer through an endless two hours of discussions of where the company is going."

Sliding a hand over his mass of curls, she tweaked one and leaned in to kiss him on the mouth. "Thank you."

"I'm not wearing a bloody tie," he warned.

"We accept you just as you are. Just make sure the jeans are clean."

"Yes, mother." Rising, he took her hand and pulled her up. "Now get lost. I want to enjoy what's left of the night."

Wrapping her arms around his trim waist, she leaned into him, inhaling his signature scent before letting go. "Eight a.m. sharp."

His eyes narrowed. "You're pushing it."

"You know how Dad is a stickler for punctuality." With a smile and a jaunty wave, she was off.

He watched until the taillights of her vehicle disappeared, cursing himself for his lack of control where she was concerned.

Picking up the empty beer bottles, he decided to take a shower. He would give the meeting an hour tops, take his leave, and consider his duties over and done with for the week.

*****

Kara felt the faint stab of guilt as her mind wandered again. William had been discussing the merits of a witness for the past half an hour and did not show signs of ending that particular discussion. He had invited her out for a nice sit-down dinner, and considering that she had been putting him off for more than a week with excuses about work pressures, she had decided to accept the invitation. She was now regretting it.

She could have been at home, curled up on the porch swing with a glass of zinfandel and a copy of the brief she wanted to study. Instead, she was here listening to him drone on about the case he was involved in.

And she was reminding herself that she was fortunate enough to have a man who was so dedicated to his work, even if it took a back seat to her.

And as her mother put it, "He's a black man with a career. That's a major coup. Not to mention he's committed to the church."

He was so committed that he had insisted on them waiting for the wedding night to consummate the relationship.

She didn't mind that, or at least, she kept telling herself that being a twenty-eight-year-old virgin was nothing to be ashamed of. Intellectually, she knew it; emotionally, she wasn't so sure.

"My dear." His solicitous tone had her jolting a little, interrupting her thoughts. "Is the chicken Kiev not to your liking? I thought it was your favorite."

Biting her tongue before she could remind him it was his favorite, Kara made an effort to dig into the meal.