Loving Evangeline

His clothes had dried enough that they were merely damp now, rather than dripping wet, but she knew they had to be uncomfortable. Hers certainly had been. Her conscience twinged. He had not only saved Jason’s life but likely hers, as well, and had put himself to a great deal of trouble to see that she was taken care of. No matter how he alarmed her, she knew that she would never forget his quick actions or his cool decisiveness.

“Thank you,” she said softly, staring straight ahead. “Jason and I probably wouldn’t have made it without you.”

“The likelihood was unnerving,” he said, his tone cool and even. “You’d pushed yourself so far that you couldn’t have gotten him out of the water. Didn’t it occur to you to let go of him and come up for another breath?”

“No.” The single word was flat. “I couldn’t have done that.”

He glanced at her profile, saw the deepening strain in her expression and deftly changed the subject. “Will your sister really ground him for the rest of the summer?”

Evie was startled into a laugh, a rusty little sound that went right to his gut. “I’d say he’ll be lucky if that’s all she does. It isn’t that he was fooling around, but that I’d already told him to stop and he disobeyed me.”

“So he broke a cardinal rule?”

“Just about.”

Robert intended to have a few words with the young man himself, about acting responsibly and the possible consequences of reckless actions, but he didn’t mention it to Evie. She was obviously very protective of her niece and nephew, and though she couldn’t say that it wasn’t any of his business, she wouldn’t like it. His conversation with Jason would be private.

When he stopped in the driveway of his new house, Evie looked around with interest. “This place has been on the market for almost a year,” she said.

“Then I’m lucky no one beat me to it, aren’t I?” He got out and walked around the truck to open the door for her. Though she hadn’t waited for him to perform the service at the hospital, that had been an emergency; nor would she have waited when they had reached her house, if she had been able to get the door open in time. He’d had the strong impression then that she had wanted to bolt inside and lock him out. Now, however, she waited with the natural air of a queen, as if he were only doing what he should. She might be dressed in jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt, but that didn’t lessen her femininity one whit; she expected that male act of servitude. Robert had always preferred to treat women with the small courtesies but hadn’t insisted on them when his partner had protested. He was both amused and charmed by Evie’s rather regal, very Southern attitude.

He mused about this subtle signal as he ushered her into the house. Though she was still very wary of him, obviously on some level her resistance had weakened. Anticipation tightened his muscles, but he deliberately resisted it. Now was not the time. Not quite yet.

“Make yourself at home while I shower,” he invited, smiling faintly as he walked toward his bedroom, which was down the hallway to the right. He had no doubt that she would do exactly as he had done, take full advantage of the opportunity to do a quick search.

Evie stood in the middle of the living room after he had gone, too tense to “make herself at home.” She looked around, trying to distract herself. The house was sprawling and modern, one story of brick and redwood, easily three times the size of her own. A huge rock fireplace dominated the left wall, the chimney soaring upward to the cathedral ceiling. Twin white ceiling fans stirred a gentle breeze. The furniture was chic but comfortable-looking, sized to fit a man of his height.

The living room was separated from the dining room by a waist-high planter in which luxurious ferns flourished. Huge double windows revealed a deck, furnished with comfortable chairs, an umbrella table and even more plants. Hesitantly she walked into the dining room for a better view. The kitchen opened up to the right, an immaculate oasis gleaming with the most modern appliances available. Even the coffeemaker looked as if the user would need a degree in engineering to work the thing. There was a breakfast nook on the far side of the kitchen, occupied by a smallish table with a white ceramic tile top. She could see him sitting there in the mornings, reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. Double French doors, far more ornate and stylish than her own, led from the breakfast nook onto the deck. She would have liked to explore further but felt too constrained here on his territory. Instead she retreated to the living room once more.

Robert took his time showering and dressing. Let her look around all she wanted; the fact that she wouldn’t find anything alarming would help allay her suspicions. She would begin to relax, which was exactly what he wanted.

A lot of men, maybe most of them, would have made a move while they had been at her house; she had been more off-balance, vulnerable. He had even had the opportunity, had he chosen to take it, of walking in on her while she was unclothed. But he had elected to wait, knowing she would be more at ease now that the most provocative and dangerous circumstances were past. He hadn’t made a pass at her then, so she wouldn’t be expecting him to do so now. And since she wouldn’t be mentally prepared to handle an advance, her response would be honest, unguarded.

Finally he stopped dawdling and returned to the living room. To his surprise, she was still standing almost exactly where he had left her, and little of the strain had faded from her face. She turned to watch him. Her lovely golden brown eyes were still dark with some inner distress that went far deeper than the episode with Jason, traumatic as that had been.

Robert paused while still several feet from her, studying those somber eyes. Then he simply moved forward with a graceful speed that gave her no time to evade him, and took her in his arms. He heard her instinctive intake of breath, saw the alarm widening her eyes as she lifted her head to protest, a protest that was smothered when his mouth covered hers.

She jerked in his arms, and he gently controlled the action, pulling her even more firmly against him. He took care not to hurt her but deepened the insistent pressure of his mouth until he felt her own mouth yield and open. The sweetness of her lips sent an electrical thrill along his nerves, tightening his muscles and swelling his sex. He took her mouth with his tongue, holding her still for the imitative sexual possession, repeating the motion again and again, until she shivered and softened in his arms, her lips beginning to cling to his.

Her tentative response made his head swim, and to his surprise he had to struggle to maintain his control. But she felt perfect in his arms, damn her, all those soft, luscious curves molding to the hard, muscled planes of his body. Her mouth was sweeter than any he had ever tasted before, and the simple act of kissing her was arousing him to an unbelievable degree.

He didn’t want to stop. He hadn’t planned to do more than kiss her, but he hadn’t expected the intensity of his own response. His mouth crushed fiercely down on hers, demanding even more. He heard the soft, helpless sound she made in her throat; then her arms lifted around his neck, and she pressed full length against him. Pure, primitive male triumph roared through him at this evidence of her own arousal. He could feel her breasts, round and firm, the nipples hard against his chest, and he slipped his hand under her shirt to cup one of them, his thumb rubbing across the peaked nipple through the thin lace of her bra. Her body arched, her hips pressing hard against his…and then suddenly she was fighting, panicked, trying to squirm free.

He let her go, though every cell in his body was screaming for more. “Easy,” he managed to say, but the word was low and rough and his breath was uneven. He tried for a more controlled reassurance. “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart.”

Evie had backed away from him, her face pale but her lips swollen and red from his kisses. She forced herself to stop retreating, to stand her ground and face him. The sensual pull of his masculinity was almost overwhelming, tempting her to go back into those arms, to yield to that fierce domination. She felt a sense of doom; he was far more dangerous to her than she had first suspected.

“Yes, you will,” she whispered. Her teeth were chattering. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

Chapter Five

She looked ready to bolt. To soothe her, he moved back a few paces and let his hands relax at his sides. His eyes gleamed with faint irony. “You’re a lovely woman, sweetheart. Surely you aren’t surprised that I’m attracted to you? As for what I want from you, I was holding you closely enough that the answer to that question should have been obvious.”

She didn’t respond to his gentle teasing. Instead her somber gaze remained locked on his face, trying to probe beneath that smooth, urbane sophistication. He was very cosmopolitan, beyond a doubt, but he used that slick surface as a shield to hide the real man, the man who had kissed her with such ruthless passion. There were many hidden layers to him, his motives complex and unfathomable. Yes, he was attracted to her, as she was to him. It would be foolish to deny her own participation, and Evie wasn’t a foolish woman. But she always had the feeling that he was studying her, manipulating her in some subtle manner. From the very first she had sensed his determination to force himself into her life, and he was doing exactly that with a calm force of will that refused to be denied. Whatever his motive, it was something that went beyond the physical.

“I don’t have casual sex,” she said.

He almost smiled. It was merely an expression in those pale eyes, rather than an actual movement of his mouth. “My dear, I promise you there wouldn’t be anything casual about it.” He paused. “Are you involved with someone else?”

She shook her head. “No.”

He wasn’t surprised that she had denied any involvement with Mercer. “Then we don’t have a problem, do we? You can’t say that you aren’t attracted to me, too.”

She lifted her chin, and his pale eyes gleamed at that proud motion. “That velvet glove covers an iron fist, doesn’t it?” she commented neutrally. “No, I can’t say that I’m not attracted to you.”

Her perception disturbed him, a reaction that he didn’t allow to surface. “I can be determined when I want something…or someone.”

She made an abrupt motion, as if tiring of the verbal jousting. “I phrased it wrong. I don’t have affairs, either.”

“A wise decision, but in this case too restrictive.” He approached her now, and she didn’t retreat. Gently he cupped her face with one long-fingered hand, his fingers stroking over the velvety texture of her cheek. God, she was lovely, not classically beautiful, but glowing with an intensely female seductiveness that made him think her name was very apt indeed. So must Eve have been, glorious in her nudity. No wonder Adam had been so easily led, a weakness he wouldn’t allow himself, though he intended to fully enjoy Evie’s sensuality. Her sweet, warm scent wafted up to him. “I won’t force you,” he murmured. “But I will have you.”

“If you won’t use force, how do you intend to go about it?” she asked.

His eyebrows lifted. “You think I should warn you?”

“Yes.”

“An interesting notion, but one I’m going to leave untried.” He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip. “For now, sweetheart, we’d better get back to the marina. You have a business to run, and I have a boat to get into a slip.”

He let his hand drop as he spoke, and Evie turned from him with relief, as if she had been released from a force field. Her face tingled where he had touched her, and she remembered the electric sensation when he had put his hand on her breast. His boldness spoke of vast experience and self-confidence with women, something that put her at a disadvantage.

They were both silent on the drive back to the marina. She was vaguely surprised to see how late it was, the sun dipping low even for these long summer days. The sultry heat hadn’t abated, though there was a hint of purple on the horizon that gave the promise of a cooling rain shower.

Robert’s speedboat, a sleek, dark eighteen-footer, was still where he had left it, hitched to a black Jeep Renegade. Thank heavens it hadn’t been blocking the launch ramps, or Craig would have had a mess on his hands. She hurried into the marina office, and Craig looked up from the sports magazine he was reading. “Is everything okay?” he asked, getting to his feet. “The kids said that Jason nearly drowned.”

“He has a concussion, but he’ll go home tomorrow,” she said.

“Thanks for coming in. I’m sorry for wrecking your day.”

“No problem,” he said cheerfully. He was seventeen, a tall, muscular, dark-haired kid who would be a senior when the new school year started. He had been working part-time for her for almost two years and was so steady that she had no qualms about leaving him in charge. “Say, what about that new boat outside?”

“It’s mine,” Robert said, stepping inside. “I’ll be renting a slip here.” He held out his hand. “I’m Robert Cannon.”

Craig took his hand with a firm grip. “Craig Foster. Glad to meet you, Mr. Cannon. You must be the guy who pulled Evie and Jason out of the water. The kids said it was a tall Yankee.”

“I’m the guy,” Robert affirmed, amusement in his eyes.

“Thought so. Want me to help you get the boat into a slip?”