Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance) (24 page)

"Jenny," he called over his shoulder. "Evan's here."

Jenny bounced up from the bowl of ice cream she was eating in front of the TV and ran toward her, Copper at her side. When she wrapped her arms around Evan, the hug was warm and mutual. Evan buried her face in Jen's soft hair, half to avoid Linc's scornful gaze, and half to revel in the clean, innocent scent of a freshly scrubbed little girl.

"Are you better now, Evan? Daddy said you caught a bug. He said if I saw you, I'd get it, too." Jenny gave her a serious stare.

Evan's eyes shot to Linc's, then back to Jenny. "I'm better, Jen. The bug's gone. You can come—"

Linc broke in. "She's eaten and had her bath. I didn't want you to have too many
responsibilities."

She looked up at him, her expression rigidly controlled. "What time will you be back?" As she spoke, she brushed Jenny's bangs back from her forehead. It was warm.

"Don't worry, I won't take up too much of your time. I don't plan to be more than a couple of hours."

Evan straightened to her full height and gave him a direct gaze. "You can drop the sarcasm, Linc. I wasn't trying to hurry you. I'm looking forward to some time with Jenny. As for you... you can be gone as long as you like."

Evan saw the tightening in his jaw before she turned her attention back to Jenny. She ran a hand across her forehead. It
was
warm.

"You feeling okay, honey?"

Jenny brushed away her hand. "Wanna see Copper's trick, Evan? She can sit up. Watch."

Jenny patted her chest. Copper stood on her hind legs, balanced her front legs on Jenny's shoulders, and licked Jenny's face with more enthusiasm than discipline. While child and dog pretended to be involved in the serious business of puppy training, Evan's eyes strayed to Linc's. She caught a pained, hungry look before he closed the shutters on it. Without a word, he strode from the room, coming back seconds later wearing a light tan sport jacket.

"I'll be at the Empress Hotel." With that, he was gone. Evan watched him go, indulging in a pained, hungry look of her own. This was hard, very hard.

* * *

When he heard the page, he was in the lobby saying his goodbyes. It was nearly ten o'clock.

"I'm Lincoln Stewart," he said to the desk clerk.

"Mr. Stewart, I have a message from a Miss North. You're to go directly to Victoria General Hospital. She says not to worry, but she's taken your daughter there. She said she tried your cell—"

The desk clerk smiled in sympathy, but Linc didn't see it. He was striding to the door.

* * *

He found Evan in the emergency waiting room, her face drawn into tight, worried lines.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said. "I called your cell—"

"I know. I had it off during my meeting."
Never again.
"What is it? What's wrong with her?"

"Don't know for sure yet. After you left, her fever kept getting worse. She said her head hurt. When she started to vomit, I brought her in right away."

"Where is she, and where's the doctor?"

"He's with her now. He said it might be... meningitis." Evan looked at him as if trying to gauge his reaction. "He says there've been a couple of cases reported lately."

His jaw tensed. "What do you think?"

"I'm not sure, but she didn't complain about a stiff neck. That's a good sign." Evan said the words but didn't look convinced by them. "And if it is meningitis, it's in the early stage." She touched his arm. "She'll be fine, Linc." Her words reassured, but her green eyes were dark with worry.

He nodded tried to swallow the clot of fear in his throat.

Evan looked past him. "The doctor's here."

She gave Linc a quick glance and squeezed his arm before letting go. As consolation went, it wasn't enough. He wanted his arms around her—and his daughter.

The middle-aged doctor smiled at them both. "You can relax. Your daughter has nothing more than cold coupled with a badly upset stomach. Her fever is already coming down. But we'll keep her overnight—just to be sure."

Without thinking, Linc put his arm around Evan's shoulders. She sagged against him, and his grip tightened like a vise before easing.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

"Through there." The doctor pointed to a door a few feet away.

Linc started down the hall, paused, and turned back. He gave Evan a questioning look. "Coming?" He waited a moment, then held out his hand. "Evan?"

* * *

Evan saw the invitation in his eyes, the hopeful expectancy and took a step toward him—then stopped. "No. You go ahead. I'll wait for you here."

Linc's expression chilled, and his hand fell to his side. "Of course."

Oh, Linc, if you only knew how much I wanted to go to Jenny. Don't hate me. Please don't hate me.

Evan walked back to the main waiting area and sagged into a chair. She hurt, inside and out. It was as though every tissue, fiber, and nerve ending in her body were exposed.
Linc.
Instead of diminishing, her need for him was growing every day. And Jenny. She let her head fall back against the wall. My God, even the thought that the child might be seriously ill was terrifying.

She was more confused than she'd ever been in her life. Everything had been so simple before Linc and Jen—her path clear, her horizon unclouded. Time for herself for the first time in her adult life. She was going to put her goals first instead of last.

Why did that suddenly not seem so important?

Her answer came striding down the hospital corridor.

"Let's go. They're going to take Jen upstairs now. I'll drive you home. If I hurry, I can get back by the time they get her to her room." Linc spoke and walked briskly.

"You're staying the night?"

"Of course."

Evan glanced down the hall to where Jenny was. She longed to at least say good night. What was between Linc and her shouldn't hurt Jenny.
Damn it! Harden your heart, woman.
Jenny was Linc's daughter, his responsibility. She allowed him to take her elbow and guide her toward the door. She was nearly there. Nearly free.

She stopped so abruptly, Linc collided with her shoulder. The hospital's automatic doors opened and Evan took a breath of cool night air.

"I'm staying, too," she said.

Linc looked down at her. She couldn't read his eyes. Angry? Confused? She didn't know and didn't care. She was staying. Jenny needed her—and so did Linc.

"According to the doctor, she's fine. It's not necessary that you stay, or put yourself out anymore than you already have."

"I didn't say it was."

"I don't think—"

"I said I'm staying." She met his gaze

He glared at her, but seemed at war with himself. She couldn't tell if he was going to walk away from her, shove her off the hospital curb, or explode and tell her to get the hell out of his life—and Jenny's. He was silent a long moment, before he said—without a trace of emotion in his voice, "Fine. Jenny will like that."

With that, he went back through the hospital doors, Evan on his heels.

* * *

They brought Jenny home early the following morning. Maud and Copper were waiting at the door. Displaying the miraculous recuperative powers of childhood, Jenny sprang from the car and rushed to join them. Maud embraced Jenny while Copper licked chin, cheek, nose, and any other exposed skin her tongue could reach.

Evan started to get out of the car. Linc gripped her arm.

"Wait," he said. He rolled down the window.

"Maud, we'll be an hour or so. Okay?"

Maud smiled, nodded, then waved once before hustling Jenny and Copper inside. It was early, and the sky was spitting rain.

"Where are we going?" Evan turned to better see Linc's face. He hadn't said a word since leaving the house. As a matter of fact, he hadn't said much all night.

"Nowhere. Just driving." He turned the radio off and the windshield wipers on.

Evan studied his face. It was unreadable. "I'd like to go home, if it's all the same to you." The fixed set of his jaw was making her the tiniest bit nervous.

"No, you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't?"

He shook his head and shot her a sideways glance.

"So what do I want?"

Without a word, he made a left turn, drove a few yards into a park, and turned off the ignition. They were now surrounded by tall cedars, the dim morning light unable to penetrate their heavy boughs. With the car turned off, the soft swish of the wipers was replaced by the rhythm of the rain, heavier by the moment.

"You want this, and damn it, so do I." He reached for her, pulled her hard against him, and kissed her endlessly. By the time he pulled back, she was in full meltdown and completely breathless. It was a sensory ambush. When she found her voice, it was husky and foreign.

"Why did you do that?"

He cupped the base of her head with one hand; with the other he smoothed her hair behind her ear. She fought the urge to lean deeper into his supporting palm.

"Why not?" he asked.

"The old evasion. A question for a question." She shook her head. "Not good enough."

"I want you. Any way I can have you. You set the terms. Is that clear enough?" His thumb moved lazily along her hairline.

Was it his lazy caress or his softly spoken words? Something was affecting her vocal cords. She found no immediate reply.

"And you were right about marriage. It was a bad idea."

She gulped. "It was?"

He shrugged and reached up to undo the clip holding her hair in place. "Why complicate things? Right?" He put the clip on the dash.

"Right," she muttered, trying desperately to make sense of her jumbled feelings. There was relief, exhilaration, and a vague melancholy.
Confusion.
Did she want Linc with no ties, no commitment—no Jenny?

He combed her hair with his fingers, his blue eyes glinting in the dim light. "I want to make love to you. I want you under me, moist and clinging. I want you to come hard—over and over—while I'm deep inside you. I want to feel every quiver, every shudder, and I want to taste you—all of you." His gaze was hot and steady. "And I want that now."

She stared at him, trying to stem the wild clamor in her breast, the damp trembling between her legs. His gaze never left her when he moved the hair from her neck and bent to kiss the hollow below her ear.

"Make love with me." He took her face in his hands and kissed her, his tongue sinking deep, thrusting in a sure, blatantly sexual rhythm. He whispered an explicit request in her ear, and Evan gasped. This was no longer an ambush. It was a full-on assault. Her overheated blood thickened, and a sheen of perspiration dewed across her forehead. The screen that was her mind went blank, and when Linc pulled her across the car onto his lap, her back to his chest, the battle was won. She was his.

Her head fell back against his shoulder as he impatiently yanked up her T-shirt and undid the front clasp of her bra. His hands covered her breasts, and her nipples hardened against his palms.

* * *

Linc told himself he'd stay in control, but he was losing it. In seducing her, he'd seduced himself. Overheated. He was rigid with need, throbbing with a dull, thunderous ache only she could ease. He shifted upward, pressing himself against her, knowing there'd be no relief for him in the confined front seat of the car. Not so for Evan. He found the zipper on her jeans and pulled it down, slipping his hand into her already damp curls.

She was ready for him. He muttered words that hovered somewhere between a blessing and a curse, and his hardened flesh strained further. His zipper felt like an iron cast.

She moaned in his ear, and her heated breath made his brain pound. When he leaned back against the window, she followed, stretching to give him full and open access. He drew in a painful breath as she surged upward into his hand. Fighting his own need, he stroked her softly, rubbed her wet satin nub. She lifted to him again, and he entered her with his fingers—deeply and intimately.

She climaxed almost instantly. Then her hand covered his, arching into it, as if to savor each pulse, each tiny spasm that came with her release.

When she stilled, she said, "God. I've never—You must think I—"

He turned her face to his and kissed her into silence. He knew exactly what she was going to say. It had never been this way with him either. Never this fast, this hot. Only with Evan, the woman he loved, the woman he had to have. She shifted toward the steering wheel. And as much as he enjoyed her moving over him, the pressure building in his groin was on red alert. He was caught in his own trap, and it was fast becoming unbearable.

"You have to move, love. I'm burning up," he managed to mumble between ragged inhalations of breath.

Without a word, she turned to face him, kissed him softly, and started a slow slide down his chest. She stopped long enough to undo the buttons on his shirt. She kissed his mouth, his chin, his throat, nibbled at an available nipple along the way, licked down the taut plane of his stomach. And finally—when he could stand no more—she put out his fire.