Ten Good Reasons (15 page)

She tried to resume breathing.

Evan ran a hand over the back of his neck. “All right, let’s bring this conversation back.”

“You were yelling at me.”

“I didn’t mean to yell; I just worry about you. Or women like you.”

“Now, what’s
that
supposed to mean?”

He blew out a breath. “I’m just saying men like that are dangerous, if you’re not willing to . . .” He waved his hand as if to fill in the rest of the sentence.

“To
what
?”

“To do whatever they want.”

“You mean like blow jobs? Lap dances? Sex?” Now that he had her all riled up, she was ready to spar. She liked seeing so much passion play across his face—it was a huge improvement to the man she’d first met, with the dead eyes. Plus it was something she never got out of Forrest, that was for sure. This man was intriguing, sexy, hot, and filled with emotions that lay simmering just below his surface, that he’d been trying to keep tamped down for some reason. Lia was finding it intriguing to bring him just above that surface, like the whales spouting.

“You said earlier that you say what you mean, right, Evan? So spit it out. You mean blow jobs, don’t you?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lia, please.”

“He’s my
client
.”

“I’m not arguing that point.”

“But it’s purely business. Are you one of those men who think women just sleep their way to the top? They don’t actually work for their positions? I worked
hard
for that position, to be the lead marketer on his account.”

She’d closed the gap between them again, and his lips drew into a straight line, the color gone. He clearly didn’t want to step back, but didn’t seem to want to get any closer, either. His Adam’s apple bobbed again.

“I work
really
hard
for him,” she added.

Evan visibly swallowed, but didn’t take his eyes off her.

Okay, she was flirting now. She didn’t need to say “hard” like that, twice in a row, with a sultry drop to her voice. She’d lost all sense. This guy was hot, with his muscled arms, and his square jaw, and his jaw muscle dancing when she got him worked up. . . . She didn’t care if he was Drew’s brother. She didn’t care if she had an almost-boyfriend. Noelle was right: Evan was the hottest thing that had stood in front of Lia in a long time. And she suddenly wanted him to kiss her with all that passion she could see simmering below the surface, right this very minute.

But he moved farther away—or as far as he could, anyway, until he bumped into the rail in the tiny space. He blew out a breath and propped his arms up on the rail behind him. “Tell me he didn’t proposition you in some way,” he said.

She took a deep breath herself and pushed herself
away—away from his lips, away from his passion, away from temptation.

“What did he ask of you?” he asked, still apparently trying to make some point.

She tried to focus.
Ask of her?
Proposition?
She scoured her memory and dug up some of the details of Kyle she’d maybe let slip from her mind in the last several hours, information she didn’t really want to face, or acknowledge. She remembered Kyle’s lips in her hairline, his leaning in, his smelling like cologne, his asking for a kiss in a private den. . . .

Damn, maybe Evan was right.

“I, um . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to admit it. “I really don’t remember much of the night.” There. That was true, at least.

“I think he wanted more than you’re telling me.”

Another point for Evan.

But still, he didn’t have to take it to the next not-necessarily-logical conclusion, did he? That Kyle wanted to drug Lia? Why would he risk his career, his livelihood, to do something so illegal in his own club, in public? He was one of the most powerful men in Orange County—why would he want a kiss, or a boat, or sex, or whatever, from
her
? That was preposterous.

“Well, I’ll be sure to make things clear with him, if it’ll make you feel better.” She’d acquiesce that much. “But I really need you to run the charter. He wants you to run it. He likes you. He wants us all to be friends.”

“I don’t think we’re all going to be friends, Cinderella.”

“Okay, so we won’t be friends. But can you just run the charter?”

“There’s the issue of Drew, too. He doesn’t want me to run the charter. Or even the boat.”

“I talked to Drew.”

“So did I.”

“I talked to him later.”

He crossed his arms again and squinted at her.

“That’s the other part of the favor. When I told Drew that Kyle might want to invest, he said he would ‘unfire’ you.”

“He doesn’t mind my running the boat?”

“He needs you.”

Evan looked away and thought that over. “He was pretty
pissed when I talked to him.” The sadness and failure in his voice made her chest hurt.

The water made peaceful, sloshing noises against the resting hull. “What happened between you two?” she asked quietly.

He shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

She let him have a pass on that one. Clearly, neither brother wanted to talk about it. Plus, there was the other favor she needed. . . .

“So what are you doing for dinner tonight?”

He crooked an eyebrow.

“I, um . . .” She fidgeted against the boat rail. “I have two tickets to a huge shindig at the Ocean Museum tonight—wine, appetizers, desserts, that kind of thing. You can eat really well. Let that be our thanks to you, for helping us out through Monday.”

“No thanks.”

“But it’s right down the marina. About a hundred yards from your boat. And you have to eat anyway. They get some of the best local vintners and chefs for these events.”

“Doesn’t really sound like my thing.” He turned back to his console and tucked the binoculars underneath.

“There’s live jazz, and . . . they raise
lots
of money for the marine mammals.” There. He’d like that part.

“Seems like something you and your boyfriend should do together.”

“It’s not a
date
. It’s a . . . well . . .”

He folded the Valentine flyer and stuffed it in his pocket.

“. . . you know, a . . .” She shrugged. “A charity event. Part of the business.”

“Another favor?” He headed down the steps.

“Well, all right, if that’s how you want to look at it.” She followed him down. “I’d go with Drew if he were running the boat this week. But Kyle’s going to be there, and the Vampi—um, I mean,
Elle
 . . . wants me to go. And make nice with him. And apologize. And make sure everything’s good for the charter.”

She almost bumped right into him as he whirled around. “I haven’t even agreed to do this charter for that slimeball, and you’re already asking if I’ll go and make nice with him at some charity event involving wine and jazz and
more people
?”

“And apologize.”

“And
apologize
?”

“There’s good food,” she offered weakly.

Evan headed for the galley.

“Really, the food is fabulous.” She followed him as he gathered up his things and lifted his hand in good-bye to Douglas and Cora. “I saw how much you like to eat. This food will be just as good. There are desserts from Sandy Cove Dessert Company, and—”

“Lia,
please
.” He turned around. “I don’t want to go. I’ll run the two tours on the weekend, and then the charter on Monday if you want, but I don’t want to go to a big event tonight. There are at least ten good reasons why I shouldn’t.”

“Well, I have ten good reasons why you
should
. So let’s tell them to each other over bacon-wrapped shrimp, and if yours cancel mine out by dinner, you can leave.”

He squinted down at her. She could see him warring with something in his head, but he still hadn’t said no.

“What were you going to have for dinner tonight?” she asked gently. “Green beans out of a can?”

“I like green beans.”

“Bacon-wrapped shrimp is better.”

He stared out at the marina. She wished she knew what the final thing would be, to kick things in her favor, and almost started rattling off ideas, but something told her to wait.

Finally, slowly, as the boat pitched gently and the seagulls squawked overhead, he shrugged.

“All right,” he said. “Ten reasons. Before dinner. Where is this thing?”

CHAPTER

H
e was clearly insane.

Or maybe just a glutton for punishment.

As he pulled the funeral suit out of the closet and threw it on the bed, he told himself it was the food that was bringing him to this thing, but he knew it was more.

It was a pair of flashing blue eyes. It was a pint-sized ball of energy who was making him feel again. It was a pair of quivering breasts that got his blood pumping to his groin, and a vulnerable admission about keeping a job and wanting to go to Paris that got his blood pumping to his heart. It was the thought of the thong beneath her clothes; the memory of the body he saw under her champagne underthings that first night; and her sweet, dangerous breath on his cheek when she said phrases like “I think I like it.”

And
did he almost kiss her
? He couldn’t believe he almost did that. Not only did she have a boyfriend—although the jerk was nowhere to be seen, not even a phone call when she felt like she was at death’s door—but she was another of Drew’s friends that he absolutely couldn’t move in on. He was still begging forgiveness for the first one.

Renece had been introduced to him on his dad’s sailboat
when he was nineteen. He’d been a scrawny, nerdy kid—out of high school for just past a year, and restless. He’d been a science geek in high school, and had studied hard, especially biology, spending too many hours in the lab where he could be his introverted self. But, despite his scrawniness, he hadn’t been afraid to fight. He’d loved it, for whatever reason. And when he was teased in the halls, his first reaction since first grade had always been to take a swing, which landed him in the principal’s office at least once a week.

In high school, he hadn’t dated much—he’d been terrified of girls—except to go to a dance once with a neighbor girl who’d asked him because his mom had begged her to. He’d gotten to second base once with another girl who’d all but come on to him at a football game one night, despite his braces and weakling status, but that was about the extent of his female experience.

In his junior year, his parents had separated abruptly, and his dad had flown to northern California, dragging Evan along with the promise that he could go to a specialized school that focused on biology. Only when Evan arrived did he realize it was a military school. That was when Evan had started resenting Drew, who got to stay in their hometown, stay with their mom, stay with the way things were.

Twelve hours after he graduated, Evan looked into joining the military. He went with Coast Guard. He figured he could still study biology that way. His dad had been a little shocked by the Coast Guard thing, but Evan could tell he’d been proud, too. It was the first time Evan ever felt he was worth anything.

Before enlisting, though, Evan began working out. He went to the gym every day, without fail. He’d started eating better, loading up on protein, doing push-ups and pull-ups three times a day, punching with a punching bag, and—before he knew it—he began filling out.

That was the summer he met Renece.

She’d boarded the boat with a girlfriend, both in their summer dresses, both looking like movie stars as far as he was concerned. The boat had been set up for Drew’s eighteenth birthday, and all of his friends were on board. Evan stood in the back shyly, loading fishing lines in case some of Drew’s
buddies wanted to do some catch and release, glancing at the pretty girls, but mostly watching Renece.

Drew had sauntered over and introduced Renece to Evan about halfway through the trip. He’d made a special trip, even. He’d left the two of them alone, and Renece had perched on the edge of a bench and giggled at everything Evan said, asking him questions about his studies, what he liked about the ocean, what kind of biology he most enjoyed. At one point, she reached toward his arm and ran her finger along his brand-new biceps and told him he was easily the most handsome boy on the boat. And he’d been a goner after that.

The day after the party, he’d summoned the nerve to call her. He’d flattened the piece of paper she’d handed him with her number on it, and finally dialed. They’d made plans to meet on the beach, and he’d gotten as far as holding her hand. He’d braved it enough to kiss her on the second date. And on the fourth date, because he was so afraid of her, she’d taken it upon herself to undo his zipper and finally take his virginity. He hadn’t gotten used to his new body yet, and hadn’t fully accepted all the compliments Renece had given him on his muscles, his size, his looks, but she’d made him feel manly and in control for the first time. He knew he’d never forget her.

Three weeks later, after he’d slept with her eleven times and had decided he was completely in love, Drew invited him out with some of his friends and revealed he was dating Renece Peters. Evan had about choked on his hamburger.

“Since when?”

“Well, I might be jumping the gun. I’ve only gone out with her once. But I’ve been in love with her since kindergarten, and we’ve been friends since junior high. I make sure I have at least one class per year with her so I can sit next to her and walk to class with her. I’d marry her tomorrow if I could.”

Evan had coughed up a lettuce leaf lodged in his throat. “Why have I never heard you mention her?”

“You’ve been away too long, bro.” Drew had punched him in the arm—his favorite new activity since Evan had finally surpassed him in weight.

“She’s hot,” one of Drew’s buddies had verified with a lecherous grin.

Evan had glared at the friend but finally returned his attention to Drew: “When did you go out with her?”

“About . . . two nights after my party?” Drew had popped a fry in his mouth. “You remember her, right? I introduced you. She was the one in the purple dress.”

“I remember.”

If he’d just blurted out, right then and there, that he’d been dating the very same girl, all might have been okay. But his secretive nature had bitten him in the ass. He’d gnawed the end of his straw, ignored the morons high-fiving Drew, and tried to slurp some soda down. “And you haven’t dated her since?”

“No. But I called her last night and asked her out, and she said she has a boyfriend, but she thinks they’re going to break up. He’s going into the service or something.”

Evan had felt the blood drain from his face.

He’d choked down his fries, choked down his hamburger, and contacted Renece as soon as he could get away.

“Are you dating my
brother
?” he’d asked.

Renece’s lyrical laugh had drifted through the phone. “No. He’s been in love with me all through school, I think, but I only went out with him once. To be nice. I didn’t even hold his hand, or let him kiss me good night. I like you much,
much
better. . . .”

Evan hadn’t heard that line very often, and it filled him with warmth. And strength. And the feeling of worth. But still . . . It was his brother.

“He thinks you’re breaking up with your boyfriend because he’s going into the service.”

Silence had filled the other line. “I was worried you were going to break up with me, Evan. Are you?”

“No! I mean . . . I hadn’t planned on it. Is that what you want?”

“No. I want to marry you. But you have an exciting life ahead of you, and I wasn’t—”

“Let’s do it.”

“What?”

“Let’s get married.”

“
What?
When?”

“Before I leave.”

“Evan, we can’t . . .
Can
we?”

“Of course.”

When he’d announced the next day to his family that he was marrying Renece Peters, he was met with a round of silence. The silence was broken, about three seconds later, by his mother’s soft sobs, his father’s barked question if she was pregnant, and the whoosh of Drew’s fist as it punched him in the face.

Renece’s family hadn’t given them a much warmer send-off.

They’d ended up getting married at the San Diego courthouse with two sets of crying mothers, two suspicious-looking fathers, a bouquet of daisies, a barely healed black eye, and a two-hundred-dollar ring Evan had hardly been able to afford from his scraped-up savings from cleaning labs at night. Drew hadn’t come at all. . . .

The sailboat now pitched as Evan tucked his tie under his collar and bent down to look at his reflection in the small stateroom mirror. He tightened the tie around his neck.

So he couldn’t kiss Lia. Or touch her. Or even look at her as much as he wanted to. He would allow himself to spend one more evening with a woman who made him think of life instead of death, but then he was done. She had a boyfriend. And he wasn’t in the game of inadvertently stealing anymore. And she and Drew had some kind of connection, even if they couldn’t identify it. Cinderella kept saying she and Drew were friends, but that’s what Renece had thought, too. And Evan wanted to make one last attempt to
apologize
to Drew—it wouldn’t help matters if he was having feelings for another of Drew’s friends.

He straightened the knot in the mirror and gave it one more tug.

Glutton for punishment, for sure.

*   *   *

Lia stood on the sidewalk in front of the Ocean Museum and stared at the night-lit entrance banners billowing in the breeze, with artwork splashed across the center heralding the start of the Whale Festival. Her first thought was that the artwork was beautiful—a minimalist sweep of blues and grays, depicting a
whale spout—and her second was to wonder who the ad agency was.

“Lia, hello!”

“Hello, Mr. Thompson.” She shook hands with the owner of one of the most exclusive hotels in the area, who she’d done some ad work with.

“This is my wife, Linda.”

Lia was almost always one of the youngest people at these kinds of events, but she knew how to hold her own. She always stayed on top of the new openings, changes in county politics, and the overall who-was-who in the area. She easily slid into conversation with Linda, admired her sequin-rimmed cocktail dress, and nodded in agreement at the beauty of the Ocean Museum’s new wing and courtyard.

“Are you coming in?” Mr. Thompson asked.

“I’m waiting for someone.”

“We’ll see you inside, then.”

Lia nodded and ran her hands up her arms, twisting on the sidewalk to see if Evan was coming. As her eagerness gave way to a strange trepidation, and the goose bumps on her arms seemed more from nervousness than from cold, she hoped this wasn’t a mistake. She hoped he would come with the requisite suit and respect for these kinds of events, not to mention the humility it would take to apologize to Kyle.

But a small spear of panic shot through her when she realized how unlikely that was. Her best navy clutch bumped against the sequins of her dress as she rubbed her arms more furiously.
What had she been thinking?
Evan was not Drew. Drew would show up with his hair neatly parted, his suit neatly pressed, and would shake hands with all the people she told him to, even though he hated to shake hands. (She allowed him brief escapes to swath with antibacterial gel.)

But Evan didn’t seem the least bit interested in selling himself. He was more likely to show up and embarrass her with his suspicious, sullen behavior in front of important people like Mr. and Mrs. Thompson.

While she had jumped at—well, okay, sort of
manipulated
—the possibility of spending another evening with him and his sexy arms, she now realized her ridiculous attraction to a
rough-around-the-edges, secretive, intensely roguish man might have clouded her usually good business judgment.

“There you are.” His deep voice came through the dark.

She whirled to see him step up from the marina docks, circle a bird of paradise bush, and shove his hands in the pockets of a dark blue suit with an ocean blue tie that matched his eyes. His hair still came down over the starched white collar, but he’d slicked it back in a debonair look. He didn’t greet her with a smile—more of a look of dread—but a breath of relief still escaped her lungs.

“Hey there,” she finally managed. He even had dress shoes on.

“Hey.”

“You look great.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself.” His eyes made a quick sweep of her dress, which happened to match his suit almost exactly. He stalled slightly at her breasts, but then cut his gaze away and cleared his throat.

“I was hoping you didn’t change your mind,” she said, scrambling for the small talk she was usually so good at.

“No, but I have ten pretty solid reasons I shouldn’t be here, so you’re going to have to do some clever convincing.” He was already scrutinizing the festival banners.

“Okay.” Another shiver went through her. “Let’s get inside and get at least one bacon-wrapped shrimp in you to help me out.”

They entered the museum courtyard through a bright green shrubbery arch coiled with twinkling lights, Evan taking in everything with critical surveillance. After handing over their tickets, they stepped into a large, pebbled patio strewn with lace-tablecloth-covered bar tables, the cloth tied at the base of each table to create martini-glass shapes. Glass-block vases of hot pink orchids sat in the center of each table, illuminated with tea lights. Lia snagged a table toward the back, one with no chairs, where they could keep an eye on the entrance for Kyle.

Once their stake was claimed with her clutch purse, she grabbed two champagne glasses off a passing tray and set one on the table in front of Evan. Her confidence was back, her work hat back on. “So ten reasons why you shouldn’t be here. We’ll count backwards. Number ten: Go.”

He took a sip with the bandaged hand. “I hate crowds.”

“Yeah,” she said, leaning in. “Why is that, anyway, Captain Betancourt? Is that why you live on that boat all by yourself?”

“I didn’t think this was an interrogation. I thought I just had to tell you my reasons.”

“Well, we only count them as valid if I can’t counter them.”

“So how do you counter the fact that I hate crowds and you’ve just invited me to a party?”

“As far as crowds go, this one’s pretty small, you have to admit.”

He glanced around, looking none too certain.

“It’s fifty people max,” she insisted. “And you know two of the attendees already. And, if you’re going to ease yourself back into society, this might be the way to go.”