Uncharted Waters (14 page)

At that moment, she was shatteringly beautiful, and he wanted her as he had never wanted another woman. It was going to kill him to walk away from her. But he knew he didn't have a choice.

“I have to go,” he said.

She blinked, then glanced down at her unbuttoned dress and clutched the fabric together. “Drew—”

“Don't say anything.” Raising his hand, he backed away from her. “Just don't.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she didn't speak again. She just looked at him with those beautiful, devastated eyes. Eyes that cut him as cleanly as any blade.

Her knuckles were white where she clutched the fabric of her dress. Her hand was shaking. He hated himself for doing that to her. He hated it that he'd touched her. That he'd shown such utter disrespect to a woman he'd promised to take care of. Hated it even more that he didn't have the guts to stay and make it right for the simple reason that he didn't trust himself.

Turning away from her, he crossed to the door. She called out his name, but he didn't stop. He jerked it open and stepped onto the porch. He sensed her behind him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he slammed the door in her face and ran like the coward he was all the way to his truck.

A
lison dropped two slices of bread into the toaster while margarine melted in a skillet on the stove. She tried hard not to think about Drew and what had happened between them last night. For all the success she was having, she may as well have been splitting atoms. How was it that a contemporary, independent woman such as herself could do something so utterly foolish?

“Because you're an idiot,” she muttered, fishing the spatula out of the drawer.

From the bathroom, she could hear Kevin rummaging around for the sun block she'd told him to stow in his backpack. “It's in the top left drawer, honey,” she shouted.

“I can't find it.”

Crossing to the refrigerator, she snagged an egg and a carton of milk from the shelf. “I'll find it for you in a minute. Why don't you put on your sneakers then come out and eat your breakfast.”

“'Kay!”

It was already seven forty-five and Kevin hadn't even eaten and she still had to pack his medicine and supplies for the day. Drew was going to arrive in fifteen minutes. Of all the days for her to oversleep, why did it have to be today?

But Alison knew good and well why she'd overslept. Because she'd spent the entire night either staring at
the ceiling or the alarm clock, agonizing over what had happened. Toward morning, she'd dozed for short periods, but every time she did, images of the way he'd kissed her, of the way his hands had felt on her body assailed her. She wasn't sure which was worse—the disturbing realization that she'd liked it or the knowledge that it could never happen again.

Standing next to the stove, she closed her eyes at the memory, felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks. She simply couldn't believe what she'd done. One kiss, she could understand. After all, she liked and respected Drew. She'd known him for six years; they were friends. He was a good man. He was attractive.

But last night had changed everything and set them adrift in uncharted waters. How on earth was she supposed to handle this? For God's sake, he'd been her husband's best friend. He'd been
her
friend. That was all she wanted him to be. And yet a part of her wanted more. A whole lot more.

She could still feel the insistent pressure of his mouth against hers. Still smell the subtle, out-of-doors scent of his aftershave. She could still feel the way his hands caressed her body. The way he'd lifted her and stepped between her legs and opened her. The ensuing heat had burned as if she'd been on fire. She couldn't ever remember aching like that. He'd given her one of the most explosive orgasms she'd ever had in her life. The rightness of it warred with the innate wrongness. That war had torn at her throughout the night. Still tore at her. Like a gale wind at a tattered sail, and a boat careening out of control...

The sound of the doorbell jolted her. Gasping, her heart slamming hard against her ribs, Alison spun. The egg in her hand slipped. She made a sound of disgust
as it splattered on the floor at her feet. Suddenly she was aware of Kevin's toast burning. She crossed to the toaster and flipped it up, but the bread popped up blackened and smoking.

The doorbell rang again. Glancing down at the egg on the tile, she crossed to the paper towel holder and yanked off two sheets, only to have the back of her hand knock over the carton of milk. She tried to keep the carton from falling, but she wasn't fast enough and it went over the side of the counter and hit the floor, spattering milk all over the cabinets and her ankles on impact.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

“Mommy, I can't find my sneakers.” Kevin walked into the kitchen shirtless and shoeless, looking adorable in his Spider-Man undies and little white socks. He stopped just inside the door, his gaze falling to the mess. “How come there's a egg on the floor?”

“
An
egg,” she corrected. “And it's there because Mommy's got ten thumbs this morning.”

“Ten thumbs?” He looked at her hands. “Nuh-uh.”

She sighed when the doorbell rang again. “Your sneakers are in the utility room because I washed them. Don't forget to put on a T-shirt.”

“'Kay.”

Taking the paper towels with her, she rushed out of the kitchen to the front door. Her nerves sizzled as she crossed the foyer and reached for the knob. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath then swung open the door.

Drew stood on the porch with his hands in the pockets of faded, cutoff jeans that were stretched snugly over lean hips. He wore a blue T-shirt that was just tight enough for her to see the outline of rock-hard abs
and a chest that was rounded with muscle. The cap he wore touted “Water Flight Tours” and he wore it with the brim turned backward. He looked like a man about to embark on a serious fishing expedition.

Alison stared at him, aware that her pulse was pounding. For some reason her mouth had gone bone dry, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a single thing to say that didn't have to do with chiseled lips or stormy blue eyes or a scowl that was a lot more appealing than it should have been.

Lord have mercy, Drew Evans was an attractive man. Why on earth hadn't she noticed that before? It wasn't like after six years that fact should suddenly shock her. But it did—right down to her toes.

Alison knew better than to let the sight of all that male beauty shake her. Damn it, she was already shaken enough remembering what had happened between them the night before. She was so shaken up, in fact, she hadn't even been able to pull off making her son's breakfast without turning the kitchen into a disaster zone.

Still, her eyes were drawn to him, past broad shoulders and a flat stomach to a part of his anatomy she did
not
want to think about. The shorts came to mid-thigh and she found her eyes taking in the powerful-looking muscles and sprinkling of black hair....

“Good morning,” she said a little too quickly, and a whole lot breathlessly. “You're early.”

He frowned slightly, looking at her from behind aviator's sunglasses, and she found herself wishing desperately that she could see his eyes. Just so she would know what he was thinking. Not that she'd ever been able to get inside Drew Evans's mind. But she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about this
morning—the same thing she was—and the memory brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

Because she didn't know what else to say, she stepped aside. “Come in.”

He hesitated.

“I was just fixing Kevin some breakfast. Would you like some? It won't take five minutes for me to whip up some eggs and toast.” Oh, God, she was blabbering. How was she supposed to fix this man breakfast when her hands were shaking so badly, all she seemed capable of was breaking eggs and spilling milk? “Would you like some scrambled eggs and toast?”

“Ah, no thanks. I already ate.”

Turning away, she started toward the kitchen aware that her legs were shaking, that her pulse was pounding and that her every sense was honed on the man behind her.

“Where's Kevin?” he asked.

“Putting on his sneakers.” She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry he's not ready to go yet. We overslept.”

“No problem.”

She entered the kitchen, went directly to the refrigerator and chose another egg. Drew paused at the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking down at the broken egg and spilled milk and wished she'd taken the time to clean them. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

At the stove, she turned on the flame and cracked the egg. Once it started sizzling, she stooped to clean up the broken one.

“Alison, about last night—”

“Don't apologize,” she blurted, scooping the yolk into the paper towel.

He sighed. “I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm sorry.”

Relieved that she had something to do besides look at him, she concentrated on sopping up the egg and ordered her nerves to settle. “It happened. We'll deal with it.”

“Alison—”

She turned to him. “Drew, we're adults—”

“I think we ought to cool it for a while after today.”

That wasn't what she'd been expecting him to say. She tried desperately to look nonchalant as she tossed the soiled towel into the trash and dropped two pieces of bread into the toaster. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I'll take Kevin fishing today and show him a good time, but I think maybe it would be best if you and I didn't see each other for a while.”

“And you came to this conclusion because...”

“Because last night got out of hand. Way out of hand.” He glanced toward the door, looking uncomfortable for the first time despite the sunglasses. “I don't want that kind of relationship with you.”

Hurt tangled with humiliation and plunged through her like a knife. For several heartbeats, she couldn't get enough oxygen into her lungs to speak. When she did, her voice shook. “Exactly what kind of relationship do you think we should have?”

“I'd like to stay friends. Damn it, I mean that. I care about you. And I care about Kevin. A lot. But I can't let it go any further than that.”

“Do I have any say in the matter? I mean, last time I checked I was over twenty-one and I have been widowed for over four years now.”

He flinched, but he didn't look away. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

“Maybe I want you to say what you feel.”

“I just did.”

She felt herself recoil, but for the life of her couldn't say if it was physical or purely emotional. All she knew was that it was powerful and she felt it all the way to her core. “Have you come to this conclusion because of what happened to Rick?”

He looked down at his sneakers and took a deep breath as if to fortify himself. “This has nothing to do with Rick. This has to do with me.”

Liar,
she thought, but didn't say the words. What could she say? Maybe he was right. Maybe she was lonely and pathetic and he honestly didn't want to get involved with her. Or maybe, amazingly, she had done her grieving and was ready to move on with her life. Maybe Drew hadn't been able to do that.

The thought shook her so profoundly that she didn't know what to say or do next. All she knew was that Drew Evans was a good man. A man she cared for deeply. A man she was very much attracted to. A man who wanted absolutely nothing to do with her on a personal level because he was still dealing with the loss of his best friend.

“Mommy, I got my shoestring in a knot!” Kevin blew into the kitchen like a little tornado, then skidded to a halt just in time to keep himself from stepping into the growing puddle of milk. “Hey, how come there's milk all over the floor?” Without waiting for a reply, he launched himself at Drew. “Drew!”

“Hey, sprout!” Drew said, wrapping his arms around the little boy. “Are you ready to catch some big ones?”

“Yeah!” Kevin spread his arms as wide as they would go. “This big!”

“You got a hook that big?”

Kevin looked troubled for a moment. “I have to bring my own hook?”

Chuckling, Drew released him and the little boy slid to the floor. “I think I've got one you can borrow.”

Because she was still shaking inside, Alison turned to the stove and stared blindly down at the egg and began to scramble it. She told herself it was silly to feel so hurt. It wasn't like she and Drew had a serious relationship or anything. All they'd done was share a couple of brain-melting kisses. But she knew that wasn't the truth. Last night they'd done a whole lot more than kiss. And she'd felt a hell of a lot more than she'd intended.

Without looking at either male, she crossed to the toaster and pressed the button. Vaguely, she was aware of Drew kneeling to untie the knot in Kevin's shoelace. She reached for a paper towel, tore off several and knelt to wipe up the spilled milk.

“Let me get that for you.”

“I've got it.”

“Ah, I think the egg is getting overcooked.”

Damn. Damn.
Damn!
Practically tossing the paper towel at him, Alison rose and crossed to the stove and slid the egg onto a waiting plate. Next to her the toast was just starting to brown, so she popped it up and set two pieces next to the egg and began to butter them.

“White or chocolate milk?” she asked Kevin.

“White.”

She turned toward the opposite counter just as Drew rose from cleaning up the last of the spilled milk. Their eyes met briefly, but Alison couldn't hold his gaze. Not after what he'd said. Not hurting the way she was.

“Excuse me,” she said.

He stepped aside, but she heard his sigh. Ignoring him as best she could, Alison poured Kevin a glass of milk then carried his plate and glass to the small dining-room table. “Okay, young man, your breakfast is ready.”