Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance) (14 page)

Evan hugged her. "Of course not. How's your mother?"

"For now resting comfortably. Thank God, the worst seems to be over."

"I'm so glad." Evan was happy to see the worry lines eased over Maud's brow. "The coffee's fresh. Do you have time for one?"

"That would be wonderful." She followed Evan to the counter, chatting amiably about how her mother had revived almost the minute she'd arrived at the hospital.

"... not that I should be surprised," she finished. "Mother's a fighter, always has been." She paused. "But where's that handsome son of yours?"

"Not back from Mike's yet. Any minute now. I could've kept Jenny longer, you know—given you a chance to settle back in. But Linc insisted on picking her up early." And he hadn't mentioned last night, which she was super grateful for.

"He wanted to take her out for brunch." Maud looked around the newly renovated cabin for the first time. "My! What a transformation. Lincoln and Caressa did a marvelous job, didn't they?" Her gaze rested briefly on the two Waterford wineglasses sitting on the sink beside a half-full bottle of wine.
Damn!

"Yes, they did. It's amazing," she replied, veering away from Maud's questioning look.

Maud went on. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of things yesterday. Linc said the party was a great success."

"Glad to hear it." She didn't want to talk about last night.

"As a way of saying thanks, Linc and I want you and Cal to come to dinner tonight."

"Thank you, but I'm still not completely settled here. I've got grocery shopping to do and clothes to get ready for work tomorrow. Maybe another time?"

Maud studied her a moment. "All right, but you'd better not tell Cal he's going to miss out on beef Stroganoff."

Evan smiled, relieved Maud didn't pressure her to accept Linc's invitation. She badly needed time away from him, time to herself. "Don't worry, I won't. Cal would never forgive me."

"Never forgive you for what?" Cal asked, stepping through the open doorway.

"Nothing," Evan lied.

Cal's gaze switched to Maud.

"It's nothing, dear. Your mother just said you both couldn't come to dinner tonight." She sighed. "So I guess I'm going to have to throw out all my beef Stroganoff."

"Are you kidding me?" Cal's eyes swung back to Evan. "Mo-om!"

Evan's mouth twitched when she looked at Maud. "Traitor."

"Will seven be all right?" Maud answered without a trace of smugness.

* * *

Linc directed his ears to Jenny and his eyes to Evan, who'd managed to avoid his gaze all through dinner. On the occasions he did catch her eye, she instantly diverted her attention to the dinner-table chatter.

She was as edgy as a park squirrel.

He considered whether or not he'd made a mistake going to the cabin last night, but decided no. He'd wanted to be with her.
Badly
. So he made it happen. What he wasn't sure about was telling her about Jenny. Probably not his smartest move, and not like him. Not wanting to think about it now, he turned back to the dinner conversation.

"I don't know, Cal. You've never even been on a boat before. You might get sick, you know," Evan said.

"If I get sick, I'll put my head over the side and—"

Evan raised a hand. "I get the picture. I hope you're as blasé if the real thing happens."

"So... it's okay?" Cal's look was eager.

"One week?"

Cal nodded.

"And how big is the boat, again?"

"Huge! Over forty feet. The Careys lived on it for over a year once. If you're tensed up about it, call Mike's mom."

Evan gave him a searching look. "Okay, I'll call her tomorrow—see what you need to take along."

"All right!" Cal's grin nearly split his face.

"Now how about a little
galley
practice?" She nodded at the dishes and started to clear.

Linc put his hand over hers. "Leave those," he said. "I want to show you something." He turned to Maud. "Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Evan did more than her share yesterday. Run along while there's still daylight."

Evan looked wary, glancing first at him, then Maud. He felt her hand tense under his.

"Go on, Evan," Maud urged. "It'll do you good to get out for a while. And I've got Cal to help me."

Cal looked at Linc, Maud, and finally his mother, with the intensity reserved for a calculus final. When he got it—whatever he perceived it to be—he smirked knowingly. "Yeah, sure. Go for it, guys. Just don't stay out too late. Like you always say, mom, morning comes early." With that he stood and started to clear the table.

Linc had to smile.

Evan's mouth held a straight line.

* * *

Evan was outside standing beside Linc's black Lexus before she knew what had happened. She might as well have been put on a conveyer belt. Even Jenny hadn't helped, bought off quickly by the promise of staying up to watch a Disney movie with Cal.

She put a hand on the hood of the car and glared at Linc. "What's going on here?"

"I want to show you something."

"And if I don't want to see it?"

"Get in the car, Evan. You can't possibly be
that
afraid of being alone with me."

"I'm not
afraid
of anything. Although it's not every day I get kidnapped."

"I'd say railroaded is more accurate. And for your information, we're going to look at a site. I've just had the go-ahead on a new waterfront hotel and convention center project." For the briefest moment, he looked uncertain. "I thought you might like to see it."

Her resolve weakened. "I would, but—"

"No buts." He opened the passenger door, gestured at her to get in. "If our timing's right, we might even catch the sunset."

She got in the car.

"You're terribly bossy, you know," she said when he'd settled into the driver's seat.

He shot her a glance. "So I'm told. But you have to agree it works."

"Simply
asking
me would have been just as effective."

"I doubt it. I may be bossy, but you, pretty lady, get the blue ribbon for contrariness. Probably the most stubborn... closed-off woman I've ever met. I'm guessing that's why you so seldom ask questions—afraid you might get a few in return."

She opened her mouth to deny his accusation, then sealed it, turning instead to stare out the window—and making him right in the process.

"Am I wrong?" he asked, his voice bass low.

She remained silent.

"Well... am I?" he prodded.

"We came on this little outing to see your site, not talk about me."

"True"—he smiled slightly—"and not true."

Her eyes shot to his, and he could see her tension. She was getting that park squirrel look again, except for those jade green eyes, which had turned a smoky gray; they were calm, their expression impenetrable. A shot of guilt hit him for being high-handed with her, but it was the only way he could see to bridge her defenses, although he wasn't altogether sure yet why that had become so important to him.

Because she's the best thing that's come into your life in years, Stewart—maybe ever.

He lifted a hand from the steering wheel and brushed it across her cheek. "How about you quit looking at me like I'm the big bad wolf and you're Little Red Riding Hood?"

"If the shoe fits... ," she mumbled.

Linc pulled his hand back. "So is there some law against me wanting to get to know you?"

"No law and nothing to know," she said tersely.

"We'll see. But later." He made a sweeping turn with the smooth, responsive car and pulled onto a side road. "We're nearly there. So how about we declare the site a neutral zone and resume our clash of wills later? Agreed?"

"Agreed—but only because I actually
am
interested in your project."

"Thank you for that." He arched a brow. "I think."

"You're welcome." She lifted her chin. "I think."

In minutes they were walking across a rutted field and through an abandoned marina. The setting sun gave an ethereal quality to the few derelict buildings standing near the waterfront. The location was spectacular, and her enthusiasm grew as Linc outlined his plan for the area with sweeping gestures and vivid descriptions. The project wasn't big, he said, but it would keep him home for several months. When the sky darkened, they headed back to the car, Linc's hand protectively on her arm as they navigated the pockmarked field, now shadowed by the lowering sun.

"And that's what you want? To be home?" she asked, stepping up to the car.

"For now. Maud needs to be here—for her mother—and it will be good for Jenny to be in one place for a while. In the past two years, we've pretty much lived like a band of Gypsies."

Evan sighed as Linc opened the car door and helped her in. He raised an eyebrow. "What was that for?" he asked, leaning one arm on the car roof and the other on the still open door.

"I was thinking."

He cocked his head. "About?"

"About being a Gypsy. Living in exotic places. Paris. London. Rome. No roots, no ties, no responsibilities. It sounds exciting... it sounds absolutely, positively wonderful." She leaned her head back on the soft leather seat back and closed her eyes, didn't open them until Linc slid into the driver's seat.

He pointed to the scene outside windshield. "Look."

The sun was half in water and half in sky, a blazing orb poised between light and dark. With one flaming finger, it ripped a trail of fire across the ocean. Night was at hand.

He slid an arm across the back of the seat and played idly with her hair, lifting, twirling, then letting it sift through his fingers. He didn't speak, made no move toward her, while they both concentrated on the setting sun. When it lost center stage and sank below the horizon, they turned as one to look at each other. That look filled the car with tension and created a silent hunger. Evan's breath filled her throat, and her heart thrummed in her ears as a surge of heat warmed her body. She was in dangerous territory.

"I think we'd better go," she stammered.

"We will," he murmured, lifting her hair to expose throat and ear.

He nuzzled the bared skin, and his heat, bone deep and drugging, swept through her.

Evan, fool that she was, didn't move, giving him tacit permission to explore, taste, arouse. He did. His mouth followed the curve of her neck, warmed the bell of her ear. His teeth nibbled her lobe.

"Your skin is so soft...." He lifted his head, and his eyes, the color of the night sky, locked on hers. He held her head between his hands. His gaze fell to her mouth, then lifted again. "There's something special going on here. Can't you feel it?" His thumbs massaged her temples.

Hypnotized by the intensity of his gaze, Evan was torn, besieged by a latent wildness, as though she were beating against bars of her own making. A whisper of restraint told her what she was doing was crazy wrong; the roar of her blood silenced it.

"Come to me. Put your arms around me." His words were a tremor against her lips.

Her eyelids fluttered closed against the coming night, and she reached for him, her hands sinking into the gold weight of his hair. Her mouth opened under his, and he moaned, pulling her hard against him.

The kiss lengthened, deepened, demanded. His tongue plied the ridge of her lower lip, then dipped inward with a slow, seductive rhythm. His scent was woodsy clean. Strongly male. Erotic. Evan breathed him in as her tongue danced and mated with his. Time and space distorted; reality shifted, disappeared as surely as the sinking sun.

There was only Linc.

His hands slid down her arms. He palmed her breast through the thin cotton of her blouse, and she pushed into his hand. He shaped it to her breast and murmured unheard words against her throat, his thumb playing across the fabric covering her hardened nipple.

More. I want more...

He started to undo the buttons on her blouse, but before he could finish, she took his hand and slid it under the fabric to rest it against the swell of her breast. His hand cupped, stroked, and caressed, and she strained for breath. When his thumb grazed her bare nipple, it was a sensual lightning strike. The immediacy of her arousal shattered her.

It had been so long. Years too long.

Abruptly, Linc tensed. "We've got to stop." His voice was low, halting.

He held her, as tight and close as the front seat of a car allowed, his body a wall against the mad spill of need coursing through her. To still her heavy breathing, she let herself rest against him. With her first normal breath came shame. Her head was buried in his shoulder, and she wondered how she'd ever lift it, how she'd ever look him in the eye again.

A sick feeling settled in her stomach.
You haven't changed a bit, Evangeline North. You're the same lonely, grasping girl about to make the same tired mistake. You've learned nothing—nothing at all.