Hank stroked his jaw and studied the large structure as if assessing the possibility. “You’ll need the right equipment. Ladders, brushes and such.”
Zach nodded, his gaze shifting to the other man. “You could take care of that for me, couldn’t you?”
“Sure. Be happy to. I’ll set you up right now, if you’d like. I can even run down to the hardware and pick up the paint.” Hank smoothed a stubby hand over one intricately carved post. “A nice semigloss would be your best bet.”
Never one to waste time once he’d made a decision, Zach said, “Let’s do it then.”
Hank adjusted his cap, then hung his thumbs on the suspenders of his overalls. “I’ll have everything set up within the hour.”
“Excellent. I’ll be ready.”
The handyman lumbered off in the direction of his truck. Zach watched him drive away, then walked slowly toward the French doors at the back of the house. He hadn’t slept more than an hour last night. And there was no one to blame but himself. He’d known when he came here the risk involved if Beth happened to visit at the same time. Not to mention the infernal restlessness that always plagued him. He was a man of action. He wasn’t one to sit around waiting for things to happen. Finding something tangible to occupy his time would alleviate the latter problem, but Beth was another story.
The last thing he’d expected to find was her living here again. Zach rubbed the back of his neck, the move proving useless in his attempt to loosen too-tense muscles. She was divorced and sharing her childhood home with her mother. He resisted the urge to glance in the direction of the cottage. She wasn’t there anyway. She’d left early that morning, probably for the hospital. He’d watched from his bedroom window. The same way he’d watched her every move back when he’d lived at home, or on the occasions he’d visited after leaving for law school.
He’d had it all planned out in his mind sixteen years ago. Beth was too young for him, way too young. He knew how important it was to her mother that she got her education. How important it would be to Beth. Helen McCormick wanted better for her only child than she’d had herself. All parents wanted that, he supposed. Zach’s own mother was no exception. She, in typical Colleen fashion, had ensured Beth’s attendance at one of the top medical schools in the nation by calling the Dean personally. As a high school graduation present, Colleen had given Beth a check that would, combined with Helen’s savings, pay Beth’s tuition in full. Beth and Helen had adamantly objected, but there was no changing an Ashton’s mind once it had been made up.
The McCormicks weren’t just employees. They were family. And Zach’d had plans for the youngest McCormick. All he’d had to do was be patient. He’d carefully maintained a safe distance, as difficult as that had proven. Especially after Beth hit junior high. She’d made no secret of her feelings for him. He’d read how much she loved him in those big dark eyes way before she’d ever said the words out loud or kissed him. He had known that if he let his guard down it would be a mistake. He would have wanted more than that kiss…had wanted more. One thing would have led to another and he couldn’t allow that to happen until Beth was old enough to know whether she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He didn’t want her making a lifetime commitment until she fully understood what it entailed. Her happiness meant too much to him.
So he’d been the refined gentleman his mother and father had raised him to be, and he’d waited.
The day she graduated from medical school he had intended to tell her how he felt. She would forgive him then, he’d been certain, for turning her away all those years ago. She would understand that he’d been right all along. That he’d had her best interests at heart. Both had needed to be sure of what they wanted before taking such a life-altering step, like marriage. But when he arrived on graduation day, flowers and ring in hand, she was already engaged to someone else. So he’d just walked away. Beth hadn’t even known he was there. It was his fault after all. He should have gone to her sooner and explained his feelings. Instead, he’d stayed away. Too busy building his career and proving he could be everything his father had believed he could. He’d finally achieved the success he’d sought so fiercely when Victoria Colby had made him an offer. He’d been ready then to get married and start a family.
But all of those dreams had died an instant death when he’d seen Beth in the arms of another man. Zach paused to steady his shaky composure before going inside the house. He’d put all that behind him years ago. He couldn’t understand why he was putting himself through it all over again now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had other women. He’d gone through dozens while waiting for the only one he wanted. But he’d waited too long.
Zach dismissed the past from his mind. None of that mattered now. He was here for his mother, not for Beth. It was good to see her, but whatever had been between them was over…the opportunity had passed.
He clenched his jaw at the memory of how touching her, of simply pressing his lips to her forehead just last night had affected him. He still wanted her desperately, at least on a physical level. His gut instinct told him that she was still attracted to him as well. He doubted it would take much on either of their parts to fall into a brief affair. A two-week affair to be exact. He shook his head. He wouldn’t do that. He was used to short relationships, but Beth wasn’t. He wouldn’t risk hurting her that way. It wasn’t her fault he’d screwed up.
Their lives were different now. There was no going back. That time had passed. Zach didn’t want those things anymore. He had no desire for marriage and family. He’d banished those concepts from his life the day Beth married another man. He’d gotten used to being a confirmed bachelor. The fact of the matter was he enjoyed playing the field. What did he need with a permanent relationship at this point in his life? He spent far too many hours at the office to be a good husband or father. He was probably too old to change.
But he and Beth could have what they’d always had—friendship. He would walk on broken glass to protect that precious bond. No matter how attracted they were to one another, he wouldn’t risk hurting Beth again.
Zach opened the door and stepped into the house. The summer room was quiet and deserted. It had never been that way back in his days as a teenager. He studied the way the sunlight streamed in through the numerous windows warming the comfortable overstuffed furnishings and nurturing the entourage of plants and indoor trees. The only room in the house that contained a television set, this had been Zach’s favorite. He and his buddies had spent many fall Saturday afternoons watching college football in here. He and Beth had spent just as many Saturday nights watching movies in here, too. They’d stretched out on the carpet and shared a big bowl of popcorn. He smiled at the protective feeling that welled in him even now. Later, when he’d had the occasional weekend home from college, his feelings had changed. He remembered the first time he’d looked at Beth and felt something different…something that startled him.
Zach swore hotly at himself, using a particularly nasty compound adjective that described perfectly his inability to keep his head on straight. He needed to focus on the problem at hand. His mother.
“Shame on you, Zacharius Ashton,” Colleen scolded. “Where on earth did you learn such language?”
Speak of the devil. She crossed the room with slow, measured steps, her gaze searching his. “At law school,” he lied, putting his disturbing predicament aside for the moment. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her waiting cheek. “It was required methodology for closed door negotiations.”
His mother smiled fondly as she caressed his jaw with one frail hand. “You’re so like your father. Confident, strong and so handsome.”
Zach smiled, too, remembering. “But he always told me that I got my blue eyes from the milkman.”
Colleen patted his shoulder. “The broad shoulders, too,” she mused, going along with the old family joke. “That milkman was a real looker.”