Loving Evangeline

  Through the open patio door she heard the knock at the front. “Robert?” she called. “I’m on the deck.”

  His footsteps in the grass were silent as he walked around, but in fifteen seconds he was coming up the three shallow steps onto the deck. He stopped, his eyes kindling as he stared at her.

  Surprised, she curled a little tighter in the chair. “What have I done now?”

  His expression relaxed as he moved to take the chair beside her. “You mistake the matter. That was lust, not anger.”

  “Ah.” She used the cup to hide her face as she took another sip. “That should tell you something.”

  “Should it?”

  “That I see anger from you more often than I do lust.” Her heart was pounding even harder. My God, she was flirting. She was stunned by the realization. She had never in her life engaged in suggestive banter with a man, especially not to discuss his lust for her. She didn’t think she had ever even flirted with Matt; somehow things had always seemed settled between them, and they hadn’t gone through that dizzying, intense stage of courtship before commitment. They had grown up committed to each other.

  “Again you mistake the matter,” Robert said idly.

  “In what way?”

  “The lust is always there, Evangeline.”

  The quiet, almost casual, statement left her breathless. This time she took refuge in good manners, unwinding her legs to stand up as she said, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” he said, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. His touch lingered, his fingertips lightly caressing the curve of the joint. “You look as contented as a cat. Just tell me where the cups are.”

  “In the cabinet directly over the coffeemaker. I don’t have any cream, only skim milk—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I drink it black, like you. While I’m in there, would you like a refill?”

  Silently she handed him her cup, and he disappeared into the house.

  As Robert got a cup from the cabinet, he noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. He was both amused and amazed at the force of his reaction to her, though he had gotten used to being at least semi-aroused whenever he was in her company. But when he had first seen her this morning…well, he had wanted to see her with her hair down, and now he had gotten his wish.

  He just hadn’t expected the potency of his response, hadn’t expected that thick, tawny-gold, streaky mantle flowing halfway down her back, the sunlight glinting along the strands like precious metal. Only the ends curled, frothing in delight at having been released from the confines of her habitual braid. One lock hung over her shoulder and breast, the curl wrapping around her nipple as perfectly as if it had been created to do just that. It had taken only a glance for him to tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the pale peach camisole top with the tiny tucks down the front that she probably thought disguised her braless state.

  He should have become accustomed by now to the luminosity of her skin. He hadn’t. Every time he saw her anew, he was struck by the way she seemed to glow. This morning the effect had been particularly acute. She had been curled in the chair like a cat, sleepy and slightly tousled, her shapely legs and delicate feet bare, the bright sunlight somehow lighting her from within.

  He wanted to pick her up and carry her back into the dim coolness of her bedroom, strip her naked and sate himself on the golden pearl of her flesh. But he remembered, with an unpleasant jolt, that this was the house where Matt had grown up. He didn’t want to take her here, where the memories of the boy abounded.

  “Robert?” Her tone was questioning at his long delay.

  “I’m just reading your coffee cups,” he called back, and heard her chuckle in reply.

  He chose the cup that said, “I’m forty-nine percent sweet. It’s the other fifty-one percent you have to worry about,” and poured coffee into it, then refilled her cup. He carried both of them out onto the deck and carefully gave hers to her, not wanting even a drop of the hot liquid to spill on her bare legs.

  “That’s quite a collection of cups.”

  “Isn’t it? Jason and Paige are the culprits. Every birthday, every Christmas, they give me a cup as a gag gift. It’s become tradition. They put so much time and effort into picking the cup that it’s gotten to where unwrapping it is the highlight of the occasion. They don’t let Becky or Paul see it beforehand, so it’s always a surprise to them, too.”

  “Some of them are rather suggestive.”

  She grinned. “Paige’s doing. She’s an expert at finding them.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That delicate, innocent child?”

  “That precocious, inventive child. Don’t let the shyness fool you.”

  “She didn’t seem shy to me. She started talking to me right away when I first met her.”

  “Blame your own charm. She isn’t that open with most people. But considering the way Sherry’s baby took to you,” she said judiciously, “it seems that little girls have an affinity for you.”

  “That’s all well and good,” he replied, watching her calmly over the rim of his cup, “but what about the grown-up ones?”

  “I’ll bring you a big stick tomorrow so you can keep them beat off.” Very calmly he leaned over to place his cup on the deck, then took her cup from her hand and put it beside his. She eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”

  “This.” With one swift, deft movement, he scooped her out of her chair, and settled down in his again with her on his lap. She sat stunned, stiffly erect, her eyes big with surprise. He retrieved her cup and placed it in her hands, then shifted her so she was off balance and had to relax against his chest.

  “Robert,” she said in a weak protest.

  “Evangeline.” His voice lingered over the long i.

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She sat there wrapped by his strength, his warmth, his scent. She could feel the steady thumping of his heart. She had known that he was tall, but even now, with her sitting on his lap, her head wasn’t as high as his. She felt physically overwhelmed and remarkably safe. Not from him, but from the rest of the world.

  His thighs were hard under her, and something else was, too.

  “Finish your coffee,” he said, and unthinkingly she raised the cup to her lips.

  They sat there in peaceful silence as the heat grew and the traffic on the river increased. When their cups were empty, he set them aside, then caught her face in his hand and turned it up for his slow, deep kiss.

  Like a flower turning toward the sun, she shifted toward him, fitting herself more firmly against him. The taste of coffee was in his mouth and hers. His tongue gently explored, and she trembled, her arms lifting to encircle his neck. How long he drank from her mouth she didn’t know; time was measured only by the heavy pulse of her blood, throbbing through every inch of her body.

  His hand brushed across her breast, pushing her hair aside, then returned to firmly cup the soft mound. Evie stiffened slightly, but he soothed her with a deep murmur, not really a word, only a calming sound. He had had his hands and his mouth on her breasts before, but he could sense that she was still uncertain about allowing the caress. He petted her, gently circling her nipples with one fingertip until they stood temptingly erect, stroking the lush curves with tender care. He wanted her to relax, but instead the tension in her changed, became more finely charged, and he knew that he was arousing her instead.

  Deliberately he unbuttoned the first three buttons of the camisole and slid his hand inside. With a sharply indrawn breath, she turned her face into his neck, but she didn’t say the one word that would stop him. Her satiny flesh was cool to his touch, the small nipples puckered and tight. He played with them, rubbing them between his fingers, lightly pinching as he watched her with acute attention to learn exactly what she liked. Slowly her breasts grew warm from his touch, the paleness taking on a pinkish glow.

  Evie held herself very still, barely breathing, her eyes closed as she tried to deal with the delic
ate, exquisite pleasure sweeping through her. She knew she was playing with fire, but she couldn’t seem to make herself stop. What if he carried her inside? She would have to call a halt then, because she was still having her period, and she was neither sophisticated nor experienced enough to either let him proceed or tell him, without embarrassment, why he couldn’t.

  “Shall I stop?” he asked, the sound very low.

  She swallowed. “I think you should.” But she didn’t lift her face, and that wasn’t the agreed signal. He shifted her, lifted her, and the shocking heat of his mouth closed over the distended nipple of her exposed breast. She cried out, her nipple prickling at the sensation, and fire shot straight through to her loins.

  Then, incredibly, his mouth left her body and he was sitting her up on his lap. “We have to stop,” he was saying with gentle regret. “I don’t think you’re ready to give me the go-ahead, and I don’t want to push my self-control much further.”

  Evie bent her head, struggling with a mixture of relief and chagrin as she fumbled with her buttons, restoring her clothing to order. He was right, of course. She didn’t want their intimacy to go any further than it already had, though she intended to be prepared if it did.

  She managed to smile at him as she scrambled out of his lap and bent down to get the coffee cups. “Thank you,” she said, and carried the cups inside.

  Robert rubbed his hand over his eyes. God, that had been closer than he’d let on, at least for him. Would she have let him make love to her, after all? Somehow he didn’t think so; he could still sense reluctance in her. In a few more minutes she would have said no, and the way he felt now, the strain might well have killed him. Even if she had said yes, he didn’t want to make love to her in this house, so it was just as well he’d had the sense to stop.

  They spent the morning together without a repeat of the scene on the deck. He’d already had enough frustration for one day, he decided. When it was time for her to cross the lake to work, he kissed her goodbye and left.

  The wind blowing in her face helped clear Evie’s mind as she sped across the water. What did he do for most of the day? she wondered. He’d said that he was on vacation, but a person, especially a man like Robert, could take only so much relaxation.

  To her relief, Burt had made real progress on the marina jobs and thought he would be able to get started on her truck that afternoon. The prospect of having a vehicle to drive home the next day made her cheerful. Perhaps the run of bad luck was over.

  She called the local fast-food restaurants to ask about a part-time job in the mornings, but with school out for the summer, none of them needed any help, all of the part-time jobs being filled by teenagers. Call again after school starts, she was told.

  “Well, that was a dead end,” she muttered to herself as she hung up from the last call. It looked as if the pendulum of luck hadn’t swung back her way, after all.

  On the other hand, she had the knack of existing on practically nothing when she had to. Over the next few days Evie cut operating expenses where she could and her personal expenses to the bone. She ate oatmeal or cold cereal for breakfast, and allowed herself one sandwich for lunch and one for supper. There were no snacks, no soft drinks, nothing extra. She turned off the air-conditioning at home, making do with the ceiling fans and drinking a lot of ice water. She was pragmatic enough that she didn’t feel particularly deprived by these cost-cutting measures. It was simply something that had to be done, so she did it and didn’t think much about it one way or the other.

  For one thing, Robert occupied a great deal of her thoughts. If he didn’t drop by the house in the morning, he came by the marina in the afternoon. He often kissed her, whenever they were alone, but he didn’t pressure her for sex. The more he refrained, the more confused she became about whether she wanted to make love with him or not. She had never bemoaned her lack of practical experience before, but now she did; she needed every bit of help she could muster in handling her feelings for him. With every passing day she wanted him more physically, but caution kept warning her away from letting him become more important to her than he already was. She loved him, but somehow, if she didn’t make love with him, some small part of her heart remained hers. If he claimed her body, he would claim all of her, and she would have no reserve to fall back on when the end came.

  Still, she was acutely aware of how gradually and skillfully he was undermining her resolve. Every day she became more accustomed to his kisses, to the touch of those lean hands, until he had only to look at her and her breasts would tighten in anticipation. Frightened of the consequences if her willpower faltered, she began taking the birth-control pills on schedule, and as she did so, she wondered if she wasn’t actually weakening her own position, for knowing that she was protected might make her less inclined to say no. She was well and truly caught on the horns of that particular dilemma, afraid not to take the pills and afraid of what would happen if she did. In the end, the deciding factor had been that she would rather gamble with her own well-being than that of a helpless baby.

  When the next weekend came, Robert once again asked her to swap shifts with Craig so they could have an evening out. Remembering with pleasure the first time she’d had dinner with him, and the dancing afterward, she quickly agreed.

  When he picked her up the next night, a slow fire lit the green of his eyes as he looked her up and down. Evie felt a very female gratification at his response. She knew she was looking particularly good, her hair and makeup just as she had wanted, and her dress was very flattering. It was the only cocktail dress she owned, purchased three years before, when the chamber of commerce had organized a party for the local businessmen and women to meet some manufacturing representatives who were thinking about locating in Guntersville.

  The deal had fallen through, but the cocktail dress was still smashing. It was teal green, a shade that did wonders for her complexion. There was a full, flirty skirt that swirled just above her knees, a sweetheart bodice supported by thin straps, and it was very low-cut in the back. She had pinned up her hair in a loose twist, with several tendrils left around her ears. Simple gold hoop earrings and her wedding band were the only jewelry she wore, but she had never liked a lot of jewelry weighing her down, so she was satisfied.

  Robert was wearing an impeccable black suit with a snowy white silk shirt, but with the heat so oppressive, she wondered how he could stand it. Not that he looked hot; on the contrary, he was as cool and imperturbable as ever, except for the expression in his eyes.

  “You’re lovely,” he said, touching her cheek and watching her bloom at the compliment.

  “Thank you.” She accepted his verbal appreciation with serene dignity as he drew her outside and locked the door behind them.

  He helped her into the Jeep, and as he got in on the other side he said, “I think you’ll like the club we’re going go. It’s quiet, has good food and a wonderful patio for dancing.”

  “Is it in Huntsville?”

  “No, it’s here. It’s a private club.”

  She didn’t ask how, if it were private, he had managed to get reservations for them. Robert didn’t make a show of being wealthy and influential, but he obviously was, given the quality of his clothing, the things he’d bought. Any local bigwig worth his salt would be more than willing to extend an invitation for Robert to join his club.

  There was no place in Guntersville that couldn’t be gotten to rather quickly. Robert turned the Jeep off of the highway onto a small private road that wound toward the river and soon was parking in a paved lot. The club was a sprawling one-story cedar-and-rock affair, with manicured grounds and a soothing atmosphere. She had seen it before only from the water which glistened just beyond the club. It was only seven-thirty, still daylight, but already the parking lot was crowded.

  Robert’s hand was firm and very warm on Evie’s bare back as he ushered her inside, where they were met by a smiling, very correct maitre d’. They were seated in a small horseshoe booth, upholste
red in buttery soft leather.

  They ordered their meals, and Robert requested champagne. Evie didn’t know anything about wines, period, but his choice brought a spark to the waiter’s eyes.

  The only time she had tasted champagne had been at her wedding, and that had been an inexpensive brand. The pale gold wine that Robert poured into her glass had nothing in common with that long-ago liquid except its wetness. The taste was dry and delicious, the bubbles dancing in her mouth and exploding with flavor. She was careful to only sip it, not knowing what effect it would have on her.

  As before, the evening was wonderful, so wonderful that it was half-over before Evie realized that Robert was herding her toward some swiftly nearing conclusion as implacably as a stallion herded the mare he had chosen to breed, keeping after her, blocking all retreat, until she was cornered. Robert was unfailingly gentle and courteous, but nevertheless relentless. She could see it in those pale eyes, in which a fire smoldered. He intended to have her before the evening was finished.

  It was evident in the way he touched her almost constantly, small touches that looked casual but were not. They were seductive touches, light caresses that both gentled her and accustomed her to his hand on her body, while at the same time patiently beginning the process of arousing her.

  When they danced, his fingertips moved over her bare back, leaving a trail of heat behind and making her shiver in response. His body moved against hers in rhythm with the music, with her heartbeat, until it seemed as if the music flowed through her. And when they returned to their booth, he was close beside her. Several times she shifted uncomfortably, putting more distance between them, but he was inexorable; he would move closer, so that she could feel the heat of his body, smell the faint, spicy scent of his cologne and the muskiness of his skin. He would lightly stroke her arm, or trace the line of her jaw with one long finger, or rub his thumb over the curve of her collarbone. His leg would slide along hers, and then she would feel the hard curve of his arm behind her back, the firm clasp of his hand at her waist. With every move he made her more aware of him and at the same time broadcast his posession of her to any male in the vicinity who might be thinking of poaching.