Loving Evangeline Read online

  Through the open patio door she heard the knock at the front. “Robert?” she called. “I’m on the deck.”

  His footsteps in the grass were silent as he walked around, but in fifteen seconds he was coming up the three shallow steps onto the deck. He stopped, his eyes kindling as he stared at her.

  Surprised, she curled a little tighter in the chair. “What have I done now?”

  His expression relaxed as he moved to take the chair beside her. “You mistake the matter. That was lust, not anger.”

  “Ah.” She used the cup to hide her face as she took another sip. “That should tell you something.”

  “Should it?”

  “That I see anger from you more often than I do lust.” Her heart was pounding even harder. My God, she was flirting. She was stunned by the realization. She had never in her life engaged in suggestive banter with a man, especially not to discuss his lust for her. She didn’t think she had ever even flirted with Matt; somehow things had always seemed settled between them, and they hadn’t gone through that dizzying, intense stage of courtship before commitment. They had grown up committed to each other.

  “Again you mistake the matter,” Robert said idly.

  “In what way?”

  “The lust is always there, Evangeline.”

  The quiet, almost casual, statement left her breathless. This time she took refuge in good manners, unwinding her legs to stand up as she said, “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I’ll get it,” he said, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. His touch lingered, his fingertips lightly caressing the curve of the joint. “You look as contented as a cat. Just tell me where the cups are.”

  “In the cabinet directly over the coffeemaker. I don’t have any cream, only skim milk—”

  “It doesn’t matter. I drink it black, like you. While I’m in there, would you like a refill?”

  Silently she handed him her cup, and he disappeared into the house.

  As Robert got a cup from the cabinet, he noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. He was both amused and amazed at the force of his reaction to her, though he had gotten used to being at least semi-aroused whenever he was in her company. But when he had first seen her this morning…well, he had wanted to see her with her hair down, and now he had gotten his wish.

  He just hadn’t expected the potency of his response, hadn’t expected that thick, tawny-gold, streaky mantle flowing halfway down her back, the sunlight glinting along the strands like precious metal. Only the ends curled, frothing in delight at having been released from the confines of her habitual braid. One lock hung over her shoulder and breast, the curl wrapping around her nipple as perfectly as if it had been created to do just that. It had taken only a glance for him to tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra under the pale peach camisole top with the tiny tucks down the front that she probably thought disguised her braless state.

  He should have become accustomed by now to the luminosity of her skin. He hadn’t. Every time he saw her anew, he was struck by the way she seemed to glow. This morning the effect had been particularly acute. She had been curled in the chair like a cat, sleepy and slightly tousled, her shapely legs and delicate feet bare, the bright sunlight somehow lighting her from within.

  He wanted to pick her up and carry her back into the dim coolness of her bedroom, strip her naked and sate himself on the golden pearl of her flesh. But he remembered, with an unpleasant jolt, that this was the house where Matt had grown up. He didn’t want to take her here, where the memories of the boy abounded.

  “Robert?” Her tone was questioning at his long delay.

  “I’m just reading your coffee cups,” he called back, and heard her chuckle in reply.

  He chose the cup that said, “I’m forty-nine percent sweet. It’s the other fifty-one percent you have to worry about,” and poured coffee into it, then refilled her cup. He carried both of them out onto the deck and carefully gave hers to her, not wanting even a drop of the hot liquid to spill on her bare legs.

  “That’s quite a collection of cups.”

  “Isn’t it? Jason and Paige are the culprits. Every birthday, every Christmas, they give me a cup as a gag gift. It’s become tradition. They put so much time and effort into picking the cup that it’s gotten to where unwrapping it is the highlight of the occasion. They don’t let Becky or Paul see it beforehand, so it’s always a surprise to them, too.”

  “Some of them are rather suggestive.”

  She grinned. “Paige’s doing. She’s an expert at finding them.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That delicate, innocent child?”

  “That precocious, inventive child. Don’t let the shyness fool you.”

  “She didn’t seem shy to me. She started talking to me right away when I first met her.”

  “Blame your own charm. She isn’t that open with most people. But considering the way Sherry’s baby took to you,” she said judiciously, “it seems that little girls have an affinity for you.”

  “That’s all well and good,” he replied, watching her calmly over the rim of his cup, “but what about the grown-up ones?”

  “I’ll bring you a big stick tomorrow so you can keep them beat off.” Very calmly he leaned over to place his cup on the deck, then took her cup from her hand and put it beside his. She eyed him warily. “What are you doing?”

  “This.” With one swift, deft movement, he scooped her out of her chair, and settled down in his again with her on his lap. She sat stunned, stiffly erect, her eyes big with surprise. He retrieved her cup and placed it in her hands, then shifted her so she was off balance and had to relax against his chest.

  “Robert,” she said in a weak protest.

  “Evangeline.” His voice lingered over the long i.

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say. She sat there wrapped by his strength, his warmth, his scent. She could feel the steady thumping of his heart. She had known that he was tall, but even now, with her sitting on his lap, her head wasn’t as high as his. She felt physically overwhelmed and remarkably safe. Not from him, but from the rest of the world.

  His thighs were hard under her, and something else was, too.

  “Finish your coffee,” he said, and unthinkingly she raised the cup to her lips.

  They sat there in peaceful silence as the heat grew and the traffic on the river increased. When their cups were empty, he set them aside, then caught her face in his hand and turned it up for his slow, deep kiss.

  Like a flower turning toward the sun, she shifted toward him, fitting herself more firmly against him. The taste of coffee was in his mouth and hers. His tongue gently explored, and she trembled, her arms lifting to encircle his neck. How long he drank from her mouth she didn’t know; time was measured only by the heavy pulse of her blood, throbbing through every inch of her body.

  His hand brushed across her breast, pushing her hair aside, then returned to firmly cup the soft mound. Evie stiffened slightly, but he soothed her with a deep murmur, not really a word, only a calming sound. He had had his hands and his mouth on her breasts before, but he could sense that she was still uncertain about allowing the caress. He petted her, gently circling her nipples with one fingertip until they stood temptingly erect, stroking the lush curves with tender care. He wanted her to relax, but instead the tension in her changed, became more finely charged, and he knew that he was arousing her instead.

  Deliberately he unbuttoned the first three buttons of the camisole and slid his hand inside. With a sharply indrawn breath, she turned her face into his neck, but she didn’t say the one word that would stop him. Her satiny flesh was cool to his touch, the small nipples puckered and tight. He played with them, rubbing them between his fingers, lightly pinching as he watched her with acute attention to learn exactly what she liked. Slowly her breasts grew warm from his touch, the paleness taking on a pinkish glow.

  Evie held herself very still, barely breathing, her eyes closed as she tried to deal with the delic