Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance) (15 page)

Feeling ill, she pulled away from Linc's embrace.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, trying to do up her blouse with fingers that might as well have been in splints. He brushed her hands away and finished the job. The fact that his hands still functioned normally added insult to the embarrassment of her uninhibited response.

"I'm the one who's sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to let this get so out of hand." He stroked the hair away from her forehead with a touch so delicate, her skin strained to sense it. "And I don't usually start things I can't finish. Are you all right?"

"Fine." She straightened her spine and brushed at her skirt, anything to not look at him. Damn! It should have been her who pulled back, not him. Now here he was, all gallant concern for a woman he'd aroused past endurance.

Angry, frustrated, and confused, Evan stared out the car window. She didn't know what to do or what to say.

"You're embarrassed." His tone held a trace of amazement.

She let out a harsh breath but did manage to look him in the eye. "Of course I am. I'm mortified. What just happened ranks right up there with... with the stupidest things I've ever done."

"I thought it was wonderful—you were wonderful." He shook his head. "What happened was inevitable. It's been building since the day you came to my bedroom and gave me a hard right to the jaw." He smiled. "We're going to be good together, Evan, very, very good."

Evan gave him a shocked stare. "Look, Linc, don't read more into this than a temporary lapse of control. We're not going to be
anything
together."

"You think not?"

"I know not," she said flatly.

"What makes you so sure?"

She gave him a level gaze. "You can't give me what I need." Her voice almost steady, she added, "You're not what I... want."

She took a dash of satisfaction from his obvious surprise. The rich, successful, handsome Lincoln Stewart was, momentarily at least, at a loss for words.

"Now can we please go home?" she asked.

"I don't think so."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? Maybe." He met her stubborn gaze with one of his own. "But I'm not easily put off. Behind all that bluster, bravado, and... sexual response, there's a story. I intend to hear it. We're going to a nice quiet place I know, and you, Evangeline North, are going to tell me your life story." He turned the key in the ignition, and the car purred to life. Before putting it in gear, he slanted a glance at her. Not a question. A challenge.

Her heart banged into her ribs, and her breath thickened in her throat. She never talked about... things, about anything. The idea of talking to Linc, of lifting veils, terrified her. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe if he understood why this war of wills, or whatever it was between them, had to end, it would be for the best. Something had to be done. It might as well be now.

"Okay," she said, nodding, "if you want a life story, you'll get one."

"I want that and a whole lot more." He took his cell from his pocket. "I'm going to phone Maud. I have a feeling this is going to take a while."

* * *

In twenty minutes they were seated in a shadowy corner of a deserted bar. While Linc ordered for them, Evan excused herself and went to the ladies' room. She needed a few moments alone. Holding a moist paper towel to her face, she stared into the mirror and wondered what she was doing here, and what she was going to say.

She hadn't let another man get this close to her since she was eighteen. And since then, everything had been fine. More than fine.

She scrunched up the paper towel and added it to the trash. Maybe this idea to talk things out was a good one. Maybe when Linc understood her past, he'd be less interested in her future. With a bit more resolve, she went back to the table.

Linc sat sideways to the table, his long legs stretched out and crossed in front of him. He was nursing a brandy and surveying the bar as if he were its owner. It reminded her of the first day they'd met.

Evan fought the urge to run, then cursed him for being so irritatingly and casually attractive. It was one of the things she held against him. Wayne had been attractive... and so was Randy.

She took her seat, and his eyes riveted on her.

"I ordered you a brandy. Will that be all right?"

"Fine." She reached for the snifter and brought it slowly to her lips. Linc's gaze burned more than the fiery liquid. She took too much and coughed.

"Nervous?" he asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

"No... yes."

"Which is it?"

"Yes. Why wouldn't I be nervous, with you looking at me like I'm an undiscovered life-form."

"You are."

She frowned at him.

"You're mysterious, without even trying to be. You can't blame me for being curious. I want to know everything about you."

She gave him a cool stare. "Fair enough. As long as I get the same from you." She might as well satisfy her own curiosity while they played out this game of twenty questions.

He hesitated, and she watched a muscle tighten in his jaw. "Deal," he said. "What do you want to know?"

"Jenny. Let's start with Jenny."

He nodded at her, then paused as if to collect his thoughts. "My wife used me until she found someone better. When she found that
someone
, she got pregnant with Jenny. When that happened, the guy dumped her. She dumped
on
Jenny, and we left. That's about it." He took a casual sip of brandy. "Now it's your turn."

Her senses jarred by his curt words, she had a million questions. Questions he obviously didn't intend to answer.
Two can play at this game.

"All right. Let's see. I got pregnant when I was barely fourteen. My mother threw me out. I lived with an aunt until I was seventeen. She died. I moved in with... a guy when I was eighteen. It didn't work and I dumped him. I've been on my own ever since—and that's the way I like it." She reached for her sweater and started to rise. "Can we go now?"

His hand shot across the table and grasped her wrist. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry," she echoed. "What for? We both said what had to be said. Anything more is unnecessary."

"I'm sorry for being an insensitive ass. I didn't mean to sound so... blasé." He stroked the underside of her wrist. "My marriage was a disaster, and while there's nothing new about that, it was
my
disaster. It hurt. It hurt like hell when my wife wanted another man, that she found making love with me"—he ground out the words—"a chore, nothing but a means to a better end. I wasn't used to playing the fool, but I did. I
thought
I loved the woman, thought marriage vows meant something. And for a time, when Moira was first pregnant, and I believed Jenny was mine, I actually thought everything would work out."

He looked away. "Not so, Moira told me. It seems getting pregnant with Jenny was only one more effort to catch a bigger fish, reach a higher social
strata
. If nothing else, Moira was single-minded." When his grip on her wrist loosened, Evan turned her palm up to clasp his hand.

"But you stayed, for nearly three years after Jenny was born. Why didn't you leave?"

He let out a long breath and shrugged. "You know, I can't answer that. They were the worst three years of my life—except for Jenny. For one thing, I made the world's worst celibate." He twirled his snifter idly on the table. "Maybe I still hoped we'd work things out, maybe I had something to prove, or maybe it's human nature to stay past the point of good sense. I don't know."

"Where is she now?"

"Hong Kong." He shook his head. "She landed on her feet, married some billionaire businessman, and I haven't heard from her since the divorce. Neither has Jenny."

"Amazing," she said, more to herself than to Linc.

"Amazing?" he repeated, turning her musing to a question.

"In the unbelievable sense. That she could walk away from her daughter..." She shook her head, unable to understand someone who could do that, then added, "And you. That she had you and wasn't satisfied. You're everything most women want, talented, successful, attractive—" She stopped abruptly when she realized what she was saying.

Linc half smiled, gave her a bleak look. "This from the woman who said I'm 'not what she wants'."

"Linc, don't go there."
Because I'd have to say it again and it hurts—me and you.

He let go of her hands, reached in his pocket for some cash, and tossed it on the table. "Let's get out of here."

A look of intense relief washed over Evan's face. There were to be no questions.

He smiled down at her and offered his hand. "We'll have coffee at your place."

"Not a good idea. Cal will be home. It'll be awkward."

"Cal's at Mike's. He's staying the night."

They were almost out of the bar. Evan dug her heels in. "How do you know that?"

"Maud told me when I called."

"You should have told me." She gave him a murderous glare.

"I just did." He took her arm and walked her out of the bar.

Chapter 8

Evan fumbled at the door, mumbling that she should have left the porch light on. Although the night was clear and warm, the overhang of the porch made the keyhole all but invisible. He watched her struggle, then took the key from her hand and opened the door. Standing back, he let her enter. Once inside, she stopped abruptly, leaving him to stand outside on the porch. She spun to face him.

"You should go," she said. "We can finish our conversation another time."

"If you want me to go. I will."

She frowned. "God, you remind me of one of those movie monsters," she said. "The kind that all the armies, scientists, and politicians in the world can't stop. It just plunges ahead, doing whatever it wants, relentless and invincible."

"I said I'd go, Evan. If that's what you want." He paused. "All you have to do is close the door."

She gave an exasperated sigh and turned away from him, disappearing into the dark cabin.

She did not close the door.

He stepped in. "And just so you know," he said. "I'm not the monster type—and I'm sure as hell not invincible."
At least not where you're concerned.

She didn't answer. He heard her stumble, and something crashed to the floor. "Oh, damn it! I've broken your lamp. I'm not used to the place yet. I'm sorry. I'll replace it."

Linc found and switched on a stained-glass lamp near the door. It cast a warm glow over the newly finished logs. It also showed him a distraught Evan on her knees, picking up the pieces of the broken lamp. He knew she was focused on that to avoid looking at him. He bent toward her and pulled her to her feet.

"Forget the lamp," he commanded. "Come here."

"But I should—"

"What you should be doing is kissing me."

Her eyes lifted to his, and he watched her expression soften as a sigh breezed over her half-open mouth. She put a finger to the pulse on his throat and studied his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, seeking patience, a degree of cool. When he opened them again she was shaking her head. "Kissing you is exactly what I should
not
be doing, but..."

"But?" he urged, hoping her mind was on a similar track to his, willing her to respond to him.

She pulled back then and gazed into his eyes. He wondered what she was looking for and hoped to heaven she found it, because he couldn't hold her like this much longer. Everything male in him wanted to claim this woman, wanted to make her his; but another part of him wanted her to be sure, very sure. He waited.

"But I
am
going to kiss you, and... probably a whole lot more."

"I like that 'whole lot more' part." He lifted her hair from her neck and bent to nip her soft flesh. "I like it a lot." She quivered in his arms, and he heard a low moan escape her lips. He hardened to the point of discomfort and pulled her hard against him.

"God, I want you." He grasped her head in his hands and brought her mouth to his. The kiss was deep, erotic, a kiss of passion and promise. She folded into him, fitting herself between his legs like a traveler coming home. It surprised him to feel her hands gently pushing him back.