Zane (Members From Money Season 2, #170)

Chapter 1

It was a pretty night. A damn pretty night, he mused.

From where he was lounging, he could see the pretty oleander bushes and the wisteria climbing the dazzling white of the gazebo latticed walls.

Birds chirped along with the trickle of water from the nearby stream.

Tipping his head up to guzzle ice-cold beer, he admired the midnight blue sky with the covering of what seemed to be a million stars.

A half-moon gilded the trees shrouding the clearing.

Yeah, a pretty night indeed and not too hot. The breeze was already stirring the leaves and cooling his skin. He had gone for a run earlier, and the sweat was already drying up. His peace was suddenly shattered as twin headlights pierced the encroaching darkness.

His breath hissed out in an impatient sigh, and he watched with narrowed eyes as the car slid to a stop and his sister alighted.

She was picture perfect in her chic, expensive suit, her raven dark hair, the exact shade as his, pulled back into an elegant chignon at the nape of her long, graceful neck. Picking her way carefully along the cobbled pathway, Zoe Stanhope walked toward him.

"You're taking the fact that I'm not going to send you packing for granted," he said. "What do you want?"

Unperturbed by his grouchiness, she leaned down to kiss him on the lips before snagging his beer and pulling up a chair. "Hello to you too."

"Zoe-" Grabbing his beer, he slurped. "What the hell are you doing here, invading my privacy?"

"I stopped by to see you."

"You saw me yesterday," he pointed out.

"You're my brother and I happen to love you."

"Love you back. Now stop the bullshit and tell me why you're really here. If it has anything to do with the argument between our parents-"

"They're upset." She turned pleading tawny eyes toward him, the twin of his. "All they're asking is that you show up for the occasional board meetings. You're the heir, darling. Doesn't that make a difference to you?"

"None whatsoever." His peace shattered, he surged to his feet and started pacing. "I just want to be left alone, for Christ's sake! Is that too much to ask?"

Zoe had known she was wandering into the lion's den when she decided to come and try to reason with him. But she hated that he and their parents were constantly at odds.

"The occasional board meetings, Zane, that's all they're asking. I don't think that it's an unreasonable request. You don't practice law with the company, you live out here in a trailer park, you hardly ever make it to family dinners, and you hang out with roughnecks. You're Zane Stanhope-"

"Let me stop you right there." He sat back down and took another swallow of his beer.

"The name has nothing to do with who I choose to be.

The 'roughnecks' you refer to are people I happen to respect and like.

They might not be up to your standards, but that doesn't concern me.

I go to them and in respect to the family, I don't invite them for afternoon tea at the manor.

I'm living my life, my way, and I don't appreciate my own sister trying to change the way I am. "

Huffing out a breath, Zoe stretched her spectacular legs out and crossed them at the ankles.

"The occasional board meetings, Zane."

He glared at her, but she withstood the blast from his tawny eyes and held her ground.

"You're a royal pain in the ass," he grunted.

Sensing victory, she leaned over and tipped her head to his shoulder.

He smelled like sweat and his own exclusive cologne, something masculine and elusive.

His hair was too long, but he refused to have it trimmed, and she suspected he had recently come back from a run.

The thick raven curls were tied back with a thong at the nape of his neck.

When worn loose, they tumbled in an untidy heap past his shoulders.

"It's so serene."

"Kinda why I like it," he murmured. Sighing softly, he put an arm around her shoulders.

He could not stay mad at her. She was his Zo-Zo, the little brat of a sister who had followed him around when they were little.

He had been an only child for two years, and from the moment he saw her, her reddened face scrunched up in anger, he had melted.

She had been his to protect and cherish from that point forward, and he had never shirked his responsibilities where she was concerned.

"I'm surprised there're no visitors."

He grinned at the diplomatic way she termed it.

"I felt like being alone. And there have not been any 'visitors' in several months." When she lifted her head to stare at him, he lifted thick dark brows. "What?"

Shaking her head, she poked a finger at the dip in his chin. "Just surprised, that's all."

"You think I'm incapable of being by myself?"

"Women chase after you," she pointed out.

"I suppose it's that bad boy, devil-may-care look.

Oh, and these awful tattoos." She stroked a finger over the one at his neck, a lightning bolt in blue and red colored ink.

He had several others that she knew of, one on the flat plane of his stomach and another on his upper left arm.

It had been a source of contention to his very staid and proper family, not to mention the tiny hoop in his pierced left lobe.

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.