Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance) (6 page)

He put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the rock. "It must have been tough. Having a kid at fourteen."

Not what she expected, and she got the usual wiggly stomach when the subject came up. But she decided to answer anyway. "There were some tough years, that's true, but they're in the past, and I have Cal. And whoever's in charge of kids up there gave me a winner. I love him so much it scares me sometimes. All in all, everything's worked out."

He shifted his body weight, and his shoulder brushed her leg. "You never married... again."

Her mouth quirked up on one corner. "That's very tactful of you, but I think you've guessed I never married at all."

"So you never married, never found someone else."

She looked down at him in surprise. "Are those statements or questions? And why on earth would you care?"

His blue eyes locked on hers, before he lowered them and pushed away from the rock. "They're questions. And rude ones at that. Sorry. I didn't mean to pry." He brushed at the leg of his jeans. "We'd better get to the cabin."

"Yes, I guess we better. You can get my life story some other time, but only if you return the favor."

Linc, facing her, offered his hand, palm up. She took it and started to slide down the rock face. Gaining a little too much momentum, she ended up sliding down the front of Linc instead.

Chapter 3

Evan instinctively grasped Linc's shoulders, her fingers digging into muscles taut with the effort of stopping her fall. His body was long, lean, and solid, and with no give in the rock face at her back, her breasts compressed against the wall of his chest, her thighs rubbed against his.

The effect was electric.

When her feet were finally on the ground, instead of releasing her, his hands tightened their grip on her upper arms, holding her fast.

Every part of her that touched him grew warm
. Warmer.
Feeling weightless, a stranger in her own body, she couldn't find her breath—and didn't want to.
Oh, no...

Tightening his grip on her, Linc's eyes darkened, then flared in a kaleidoscope of mixed signals.
Anger. Suspicion. Indecision.
And finally the hot gleam of passion. He bent his head, his wary, burning blue eyes staying fixed on hers.

His mouth was close, tempting...

She skittered sideways and took in a long, cool breath. To cover her confusion and probably neon red face, she brushed vigorously at the backs of her thighs and kept her eyes averted. Her breathing still uneven, she looked back at him. "That was a close call—"
Damn!
she said to herself, not sure how he'd take her comment. "I meant the, uh, rock. I almost took a tumble."

There was a heartbeat of silence. "I think we both did." He shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans.

True that!

He stood like a wall in front of her, his gaze sharp and focused. The man had the most infuriatingly intense way of looking at her
. Like he's measuring my heartbeat or scanning brain waves.

Her stomach contracted, then sunk. Maybe the free rent wasn't going to be the bonus she'd hoped for. Being attracted to the lord of the manor was one thing—in Linc's case probably unavoidable—but letting that attraction get physical would be wrong for her in so many ways.

She'd made the decision. Not again.
Never again.
No more painful, dangerous attractions. And especially not now, when everything was going so well for her and Cal.

"Evan, I—" he started.

She held up a hand, shook her head, then said, "Let's just get my things and go back to the house. Okay? I'm sure Maud could use some help."

He straightened his shoulders, then dipped his chin in a terse agreement. "Good idea. I've got work to do." He slanted her a questioning look. "I guess there's really nothing to say anyway, is there?"

"No. Nothing. Let's go."

* * *

For the rest of the day, she avoided him... or he avoided her. She wasn't exactly sure. But while she helped Maud open the endless boxes that came with moving, he spent the afternoon closeted in his half-finished office. Early in the evening he left for a dinner engagement.

That night Evan took the opportunity to spend time with Jenny, telling her some of her favorite stories and playing silly card games. She was pleased that Jenny had decided to accept her, and marveled at the sweetness that flowered when her father wasn't around.

They were laughing and playing a final, raucous game when Evan looked up to see Maud standing in the doorway.

"Jenny, honey, it's your bedtime. Come and get ready for your bath," Maud said.

Jenny's face puckered and her jaw jutted out in imitation of her father. "I don't want to. I'm playing with Evan."

Evan knew the child was testing, checking to see if she could play her off against Maud. That was one mistake she wasn't going to make. She gathered up the cards. "Away you go, sweetheart. We'll play again tomorrow."

"I don't want to." Jenny pouted, then set her jaw stubbornly.

"Well, then, we won't play tomorrow." Evan stood up. "Cal, would you put the cards away please? Jenny doesn't want to play with us anymore."

Cal smiled, took the cards, and gave Jenny a sympathetic smile. "You might as well go to bed, Jen. She won't change her mind no matter what. And I should know."

Jenny rolled her bottom lip under her teeth and glared at Cal, then abruptly changed tactics. "I'll tell my daddy on you."

"That's cool." Cal put the cards away and turned to his mother. "I think I'll watch some tube. Okay?"

"Keep it under a dull roar, friend."

Cal grinned. "Okay. Nite, Jen. See you tomorrow." He ruffled her hair with an awkward touch and left the room. Jenny's eyes followed him. She looked uncertain, as if not being the center of the universe was a whole new experience. Maud's gentle voice prodded. "Come on, Jenny. Evan and Cal will still be here tomorrow. And I'm sure they'll keep their promise to play with you again." She reached out a hand.

Evan smiled at the little girl who was still struggling to hold her ground. "Would you like me to come up and read you another story?"

"Okay," Jenny said, reluctantly taking Maud's outstretched hand. "But not the mouse one. Only the one about the pirate." On this she took a stand.

"The one about the pirate, it'll be. I'll be up as soon as you finish your bath."

* * *

Jenny was asleep before the story was finished. As Evan tucked her in, she enjoyed her innocent, childish beauty. Jenny's hair was angel fair, and she had a tiny dimple above her mouth and to the left of it.

Evan wondered if Linc's hair had been as fair when he was a child. Or perhaps the girl's mother was blond as well. She switched off the bedside lamp and stared down at the girl's sleeping face, now lit only by the light from the hall. How could anyone reject such a child? How could anyone not cherish such perfection, such innocence? She shook her head. Even in her blackest moments, she'd never considered a life without Cal. He was a responsibility, yes, but more than that, he was her gift, a treasure garnered from a terrible and humiliating mistake.

"But you have your daddy, Jenny girl. And he loves you, very much. You're luckier than you know." She kissed the child on the forehead and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"Is she asleep?" It was Maud coming down the hall.

"Uh-huh."

"She's not always so difficult, you know. It would have been twice as bad if her father had been here. Sometimes bedtime can last for hours. Jenny knows who she can push around."

"After that night in the pizza parlor, I know what you mean."

"I was hoping you'd... speak to Lincoln about that."

"I tried. He told me to mind my own business." Evan said. "And I intend to do just that. He's right, you know. It isn't my concern."

"No, I guess not," Maud said, looking disappointed. "Well, thanks for tonight anyway."

"Anytime."

Maud laughed. "I might just take you up on that."

* * *

The following morning, Evan rose earlier than usual. She was uncertain of the distance or bus routes between Linc's house and her office, and she didn't want to be late. It was shortly before seven when she stepped out the front door, coming close to knocking Linc over in the process.

"Whoa! Hold it there," he said. And again she found her shoulders held in strong hands. She stepped back.

"You're just getting home?" She sounded for all the world like a cloying great-aunt. But one good look at Linc told her she was right. His heavy golden hair hadn't seen a comb, the crease had departed his slacks, and his white shirt, open halfway down his chest, was a presser's nightmare. He was a rumpled, ruffled mess, which had the odd effect of heightening his attractiveness. He slung his suit jacket over his shoulder, held it with one finger, and stared down at her, looking wryly amused. The faint scent of alcohol drifted toward her.

"Do you do this often? Stay out all night?" Her question was terse, edged with irritation. Even as the words left her mouth, she wondered what possessed her to say them. The man certainly didn't have to answer to her.

She was telling herself, once again, to mind her own business when he answered. "Not often enough. Only when I get the call of the wild." He lifted her chin and brought his face to hers. A smile played at the edges of his seductive mouth. "If you know what I mean..."

* * *

Linc saw anger drift into her eyes, then a surge of disappointment. He'd disillusioned her; it didn't matter. She didn't matter. That lie didn't take root.

His gaze traveled to her neat, off-to-work hairdo, the light touch of makeup, the trim navy skirt and blouse. A pale pink sweater rested across her shoulders. She was as fresh and in control as he was stale and wrung out. Prim, proper, and prudish, he added to himself—and the second woman he could remember who'd pulled out of his embrace. When he thought about yesterday at the beach, he pushed the thought away.

Was it only yesterday he'd thought he liked this woman? He must have been nuts. Today, standing on his front step, looking at him with her cool green eyes, she pissed him off royally.

"I have to go. Excuse me." She put her head down and tried to step past him. He blocked her path.

"Where are you going?"

"To work. I have a job, remember?" She managed a mildly placating look. A humor-the-drunk-and-maybe-he'll-go-away look. Well, he wasn't drunk, and he didn't want her to go away. Not yet.

"Where's work?"

"Downtown. A couple of blocks from the Parliament buildings. And I really, really should be going." Again she tried to sidestep him, again he blocked her.

"Where's your car?"

"I don't have a car," she said. He could see her struggle for patience.

"Why not?"

She glanced at the sky over his head before letting her eyes fall to meet his. "Because I don't know how to drive. And even if I could, I couldn't afford a car. Does that answer your question?"

Mentally he kicked himself. He'd probably embarrassed her. He changed tack. "So what do you do—at work?"

She sighed again, longer this time. "I'm an admin assistant at a technical writing firm. Moore Write Limited. But you already know that. Caressa told you." She stood ramrod-straight, as if poised for the moment when she could break free of him.

"Did she? I don't remember. She said you were dynamite. I remember that." His voice was low, gravelly. He remembered Evan's body sliding down his, his hands on the curve of her waist, her legs tangled with his.

"Good. Then you must know what dynamite does when it gets near a flame."

"Gets hot?" He smiled, touched her cheek.

Her gaze leveled him. "It blows up. Now, if you're through playing games, I
have
to go. We can continue this conversation later, when you're..."

"Sober?" he finished amiably.

She said nothing, choosing instead to look past him.

"Ah... So Miss Upright Uptight Evangeline North doesn't approve of the demon drink—or any other sinful pleasures that I can see."