Page 56 of Zane

"I was intimidated by his appearance, especially his tattoos. He has one on his stomach as well, and one on his left thigh." She smiled as she recalled tracing her fingers over the ink and asking him what they meant.

"Nothing in particular." He had seemed amused by her fascination. "I happen to like them and decided what the hell. Do they disturb you?"

"I think they're cute."

"Cute?" His growl had made her laugh. "That's certainly not what I was aiming for."

The conversation had come to an abrupt ending when she trailed her fingers further up his thigh. The memory had her going weak.

"No." She shook her head in response to her friend's question. "I would not want to change anything about him. He made me feel special," she added.

Walking over to the chair she had abandoned, she sat on the edge of it and picked up her glass. "No one ever made me feel the way he did. I'm such an idiot."

"It's not too late, honey, for you to do something about the mistake you made." Abigail lifted her glass in a toast. "Go and get your man and don't let anything stand in your way."

*****

He felt considerably better. The fact that his sister had persuaded him to have dinner at the manor was a testament to how much better he was feeling. And it was a pleasant gathering. For the first time in a very long time, he could sit at the table and have a normal conversation with his family.

Maybe he was getting mellow, he mused wryly. Maybe falling in love had softened him and given him a different perspective. He just knew he felt different.

He even stayed over for brandy and strawberry truffle, and had a lengthy discussion with his father about the ongoing project. He was even open to going into the office to help with a case. Yes, he decided ruefully as he opened his front door, he was getting soft and did not mind it one bit. With his plans in place for tomorrow, he got ready to retire for the night.

Chapter 14

He made his plans carefully and did his research. He knew that Katherine Saunders had an office at the prestigious and lofty New Horizon Baptist Church, where for "a small fee" she dispensed her legal advice to the many members. She was supposed to be retired, but instead had grown a small charitable business into a very lucrative one. She was also the sole legal counsel for the church itself and handled their many transactions.

Zane's lips twisted cynically as he read on. The church was doing a very thriving business: properties all over town, a private jet to transport the "first family" wherever they wanted to go, a yacht with the church's name emblazoned on the side, no doubt to avoid the enormous taxes. And the first family's house was a mansion situated on a slight incline with sweeping grounds, waving palm trees and a mile-long cobbled driveway starting from the massive iron gates.

There was even a ten-car garage. Interesting, he thought. He also read that the wife came from money and the pastor had never worked a day in his life.

The more he read, the angrier he became. He hated people who rode on the backs of others with so-called messages of prosperity, when they were the only ones prospering. Granted, the pastor's members read like a who's who in society: a few senators, doctors, lawyers and several actresses as well, to sweeten the pot.

His blood was already boiling by the time he jumped on his bike and made his way to the building. He was armed with more information than he cared to assimilate, and it made him edgy as hell.

He also knew that on a Monday, Mrs. Katherine Saunders would be presiding in her office at the church building, and the woman had two assistants. Christ! Shaking off the rage, he turned into the wide driveway and parked beneath an overhanging oleander bush. A quick survey of the parking lot showed a handful of vehicles, including a brand spanking new BMW parked in the designated "Pastor Only" spot. Arrogant prick, he thought viciously.

The building was a lofty split-level of spit-and-polish brick and glass, with a towering peak spearing upward. Two men he assumed were gardeners were raking fall leaves and dumping them into bags. Zane wondered if they were paid or had been told they were helping out the kingdom by throwing in their weight.

A few outbuildings were scattered tastefully around the area and were neat as a pin and well maintained. He had deliberately worn his oldest jeans, and his black sweater had a hole in the left arm. His hair was tied back with a leather thong and flowed past his shoulders. His boots were scuffed and his black leather jacket scarred. He looked dangerous and lethal, the combination he was gunning for. The earring glinted in his lobe, adding to the look. Ignoring the several glances aimed his way, he continued toward the side of the building where he knew the offices were.

And there were offices, plural. Pastor Gregory Weeks had a secretary and an accountant as well as a PR department. He knew the offices where Katherine Saunders did her thing were to the right of the building.

Stepping into the elegant gold and cream décor, he made his way toward her domain without encountering anyone and wondered why a bodyguard or two didn't jump out of the shadows to confront him. The man must be supremely confident in his power, or that of a higher being, Zane thought sardonically as he pushed the doors open.

An assistant snapped upright, her eyes owlish behind her glasses as she stared at him.

"I need to see Mrs. Saunders," he told her before she could say anything.

He had no idea what made her rise, her hands clutching each other, unaware that his voice was instinctively authoritative and his face very recognizable.

"Mr. Stanhope." She stuttered for a minute. "I-do you have an appointment?"

"You know damn well I don't." Softening his voice, he walked into the room. "I need to speak with her." His charming smile had her fluttering her lashes and her heart doing a dive.

"I will have to alert her personal assistant."

"Do that." Leaning over, he noticed her name tag. "Millicent. Lovely name."