Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance) (10 page)

After a night of watching shadows play across the ceiling, Evan slept late. She caught a glimpse of Linc closing his office door seconds before she left for work. He gave her a cool nod. She stepped outside and leaned briefly on the door before hurrying to catch her bus.

She was grateful he was planning to wait until tonight to give her the bad news. Halfway up the drive, she glanced back. The knot in her stomach—it hadn't left her chest since Linc's declaration last night—tightened. The big house—Maud, Jenny—had too quickly come to symbolize home, and it had been a long time since she'd felt anything close to the warmth she found here. She'd miss it—miss them. So would Cal. Quickening her pace, she swallowed and turned to pace up the long driveway. Sometime in her busy day, she'd make plans, start searching out an apartment.

That night Linc wasn't home, and the next day he left on an unscheduled trip to San Francisco. He'd be gone, he'd told Maud, until the following Monday. That week the last of the workmen left. The house was finished.

Evan looked for an apartment all week and, by the time Linc was due to return, had two possibilities. One of them, the most expensive, was nearby, close to the university. She hadn't yet told Cal they were moving, not wanting to face his disappointment. He was happy here. She'd never seen him so happy. For a minute she stopped peeling the potatoes and stared out the window.

If she hadn't kissed Linc that night in the library, none of this would have happened. If she were the only one who reaped the consequences of her action, it wouldn't hurt so much. But Cal...

"There's a call for you, dear." It was Maud. "A Mr. DeLisle. He said something about the apartment you'd called about?" Her voice was questioning, and a frown creased her forehead.

"Oh. Yes. Thanks." As Evan started to pick up the phone, Cal came in. He ambled to the fridge, and she froze. Glancing at Maud, she said. "I'll take it in the library."

Maud's frown deepened.

"Mom, when you're finished, why don't we go see the cabin? You haven't been down there since we got here. You should see what—"

"Later, Cal. Would you finish this for me"—she nodded at the potatoes—"while I take this call?" She hurried from the room. No way was she going to see the cabin. Not now. And she sorely wished Cal hadn't. Ignoring his grimace of disgust when she handed him the paring knife, she turned and left the room.

* * *

"Can't you hold it until, say, tomorrow... six-thirty? I'm sure I can make it by then... I see... They've already given you a deposit?... No, I didn't know... Yes, well, I'm sorry, too, Mr. DeLisle; the apartment would have been perfect for us... Yes, uh-huh... I understand why you couldn't wait. Thank you for calling." With a sigh, Evan hung up the phone.

When the door slammed behind her, she jumped, her right hand reflexively going to her chest.

"What in hell do you think you're doing?" Linc stood in the doorway, suitcase in one hand, briefcase in the other, looking like an avenging angel. A very angry one.

"I was using your phone. I hope you don't mind. I don't usually come in here uninvited, but—"

He dropped the suitcase to the floor. It's thud hit her ear like a shout. "You can come in here anytime you please. That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it." He came toward her, unceremoniously dumping his briefcase on the desk behind her. They were toe to toe.

"What's this about an apartment?" He glared at her. "I thought we had a deal. Has something happened to change that?"

"I thought—"

"No. You didn't think. You were running. From this."

With no hesitation he gripped her shoulders and pulled her against him. His mouth took hers in an impatient, blinding kiss. His lips were firm, his body rigid and unyielding. When the kiss started to deepen, soften, he took a step back, his hands biting into her shoulders. Evan gasped, her hand going instinctively to her lips, touching the reminder of his heat.

"What ..." She couldn't finish the question. Linc's kiss had melted it to an indecipherable inkblot on her muddled brain.

"What was that?" he finished for her. "Call it an object lesson. To help you put things in perspective." He dropped his hands from her shoulders and walked to the other side of the desk. He picked up some mail and started to thumb through it, supremely casual, for all the world as if he hadn't kissed her like a madman mere seconds ago.

She found her voice. "An object lesson?"

He gave her a bland look, then returned to his mail. "I thought you should know I'm quite capable of kissing you without making further demands."

"I don't understand," she said. What she meant was, I don't understand you.

"No. Then I'll try to be more clear. I hired you as a part-time baby-sitter—not a mistress. If you'd have been agreeable.. " To finish the sentence, he shrugged his perfectly tailored shoulders. "But you made it plain you weren't, and believe me, I understand 'all connotations' of the word no." His look was dark, ironic. "I can find ways to ease whatever sexual frustration you cause me. If you can do the same, there's no reason our original agreement shouldn't stand." He gave her an intense stare. "You can, can't you?"

"I can what?" This conversation was so bizarre, she was having trouble keeping track.

He let out an impatient breath, tossed the unopened mail on his desk, and planted his hands on his hips. "I asked you if you could deal with your sexual frustration." The barest hint of a smile sifted across his lips and was gone.

"Are you serious?"

"Never more so. Well, can you or can't you?"

"Of course I can, but—"

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a couple of calls to make before dinner." He picked up the phone.

When she didn't make any move to leave, he glanced at her, cocking one eye questioningly as he started to dial.

With one last stunned look at him, she turned on her heel and left the room.

When the door closed behind her, Linc slammed down the receiver. In two quick strides he was at the doors leading to the patio. He stepped outside and sucked in some air.

You're nuts, Stewart. You come back here primed to ask her to leave, and what do you do? You practically order her to stay. Not only that, you kiss her—pull her closer—when the best thing for both of you is for her to run, run as far and fast as those shapely legs of hers will take her.

He rubbed distractedly at the back of his neck. He wanted a cigarette. He wanted peace and quiet. What he didn't want was a damned woman. They were trouble, nothing but trouble. For a moment his whole body tensed and he cursed silently. He was only half right. He didn't want a woman—any woman. He wanted Evangeline North.

And she doesn't want you. Case closed.

* * *

"Mom, how about it? Want to go see the cabin? You've got to be at least a little curious. You haven't been down there since the weekend we came here." Cal picked up his dishes and headed to the dishwasher.

Evan lifted her head at the same time Linc raised his. Their eyes met briefly. She hesitated, Linc's taunt about handling her sexual frustration coming front and center.
I can handle it, all right. What I'm not sure of is handling you.

Linc was still watching her. She met his cool blue gaze directly as she answered her son. "Sure, why not? I am curious." Plus it seemed a very good idea to get out from under those laser eyes of his.

"Coming with us, Linc?" Cal asked.

"Cal, I'm sure he's tired or has work to do," she added quickly.

"Neither." Linc tossed his napkin on the table and rose. "I'll show you the security system. Get it over with."

"Security system?" Evan echoed. "You put in a security system?"

"Seemed like a good idea to me. The cabin is away from the house, and it's dark down there. I like to protect what's mine."

"Can I come, Daddy?" Jenny piped up.

He swung her up and into his arms, smiling as he planted a kiss on her nose. "Wouldn't go without you, little one."

"Maud? How about you? Want to see the
almost
finished product?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Lincoln. I'll see it on the weekend when Evan and Cal move in. I think I'll call Marion. Mother's having a bad week, and I want to check on her."

Linc nodded. "Anything I can do?"

Maud shook her head. "I think it's pretty much in God's hands now, son, but thank you."

* * *

Cal and Jenny quickly moved ahead of them, and Evan found herself alone with Linc on the long path leading to the cabin. He made no effort at conversation, so to hide her tension, she decided to satisfy her curiosity about Maud. She'd use any means to stifle her sharp awareness of Linc strolling easily beside her.

"How did Maud come to live with you? I get the feeling there's a history between you?"

He gave her a sideways glance. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't know. There's something about Maud, something refined, sophisticated. She doesn't strike me as your average housekeeper."

"You're perceptive. She's not." He lapsed into silence. When it seemed he was making it a permanent state, he spoke again. "For most of my growing-up years, she lived next door to us." A faint smile curved his lips. "She pretty much raised me and Caressa. It seemed like that anyway. We spent as much time at her place as we did at home."

Knowing, from Caressa, that she and Linc grew up in the affluent Richmond area of San Francisco, his comment made her even more curious.

"What happened? Being your neighbor, Maud must have had some income."

"You mean how did she sink so low on the social scale as to become a mere housekeeper and baby-sitter?" There was more than a touch of derision in his question.

Evan colored. "That was thoughtless of me. Forget I asked."

As if she hadn't spoken, Linc went on, "When Maud's husband died, he left her penniless. He'd gone through his fortune and hers. There was nothing left. They'd never had children. I don't know why, and I never asked. That's Maud's business. But I suspect it wasn't her choice. From the moment I wandered into her backyard, I adored her. And she made no effort to hide the fact the feeling was mutual. I practically lived at her house."

She shot him a glance. "Why?"

"Why?" he repeated. "Because she made time for me, and Caressa, when no one else did. While Mother busied herself being hostess of the year, Maud listened to my childish prattle as though it was the wisdom of the ages. She was... well, she was there, that's all. When I heard she was widowed, I went to see her. It took some effort, but when I finally got the truth out of her about her financial situation, I bullied her into looking after Jen. After her mother's less than caring attitude, I thought Jenny could use a little—make that a lot—of Maud's kind of warmth."

Evan was intrigued and couldn't resist asking, "And what about you, Linc? Is that what you want? Warmth?"

The personal question caught him off guard; he shot her a shadowy glance. "I did—once. Not anymore. Why do you want to know?"

They stopped in the middle of the path, facing each other. Evan tilted her head back to look up at him. She opted for honesty. Taking a fortifying breath, she plunged ahead.

"Maybe because you fascinate me, maybe because I need to understand you, or maybe because I want to be clear about what you said in the library. The thing is, both of us have an agenda. Yours is a busy, successful career—and Jenny. Mine is Cal, school, and personal freedom. Don't misunderstand me. I love Cal more than anything in the world, but I've been a mother, a nurturer and breadwinner for most of my life." She looked directly into his attentive blue eyes. "I'm not Maud, Linc. Not even close. Part of me wishes I were, but I know better. You shouldn't be interested in a woman who is looking forward to the time in her life when she can be completely selfish."

They were getting close to the cabin, so she stopped, wanting to finish, wanting him to understand. And in a weird way wanting to make peace with him.

"The thing is, I like you, Linc," she said, "I like you a lot." Her smile was slight. "Although I'm not at all sure why, because you're exactly as Caressa described you, difficult, quick-tempered, unpredict—"

He raised a hand. "I get the picture."

She tipped her head. "What I'm trying to say is, I want to stay here, but I don't want to live in the middle of a cold war. You on one side, me on the other."

The wind came off the ocean and swirled around them, blowing tendrils of hair across her face. She brushed it aside, and held it, never moving her eyes from his.

His expression cool, unreadable, he started again toward the cabin.

Evan stayed put. "I don't want anything from you, Linc—except what we agreed on. The cabin. And I don't want you to want anything from me—except child care."

He turned back to her. "Until that last statement, I was ready to applaud your honesty, but you're a damn poor liar, Evan. But for what it's worth, I agree to a... detente," He touched her cheek." If only to see the frown leave your face–although I'm not certain either of us knows what we're missing." He dropped his hand from her face, and his smile was quick, sexy and strangely wistful.