Perfect. Penelope breathed a sigh of relief. Her plan was in motion.
At least she could knock one problem off her Evan list.
Today she’d be happy with that, and not think about all the other Evan problems she’d been trying to strike off for far too many years to count.
* * *
Evan stood, propped against his brother’s large kitchen island, and tried not to get in the way. James and Gracie moved around the kitchen in synchronized motions as they prepared the last of whatever meal Gracie had planned. Evan took a sip of the red wine Gracie had slid into his hand. “Are you sure I can’t do anything?”
Head whipping around, Gracie glared at him, one blonde curl flopping into her eye. “For the last time, no, you’re our guest.”
James rolled his eyes. “He’s not a guest, he’s family.”
“You know what I mean.” Gracie planted a hand on one cocked hip. “You’re lucky I’m not kicking you out too.”
Pot holder in hand, James gave his girlfriend a droll look, then shrugged. “Suit yourself, woman.”
Then he dropped the pot holder on the counter, turned to Evan and said, “Let’s go sit down and kick our feet up.”
Gracie’s eyes narrowed on James’s retreating form, then she shook her head at Evan, picked up the pot holder and threw it at his brother’s head. It biffed James’s perfectly placed hair, glanced off his temple before falling to the floor.
Gracie yelled, “You’re impossible.”
Evan laughed when his brother turned to look at Gracie and said, “You’re going to pay for that.”
“Whatever.” Gracie waved a hand through the air, a cocky, sly arrogance on her full lips.
James sat down on the couch and motioned Evan over.
He shook his head and moved to join his brother, sitting down on the leather club chair. James and Gracie were still a surprise to him, but they just worked. It was like with Gracie, James lost all that rigid control and had actually learned how to have fun. Gracie loved drama, and to Evan’s surprise, James indulged her quite often.
James grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
Evan sat back in his chair. “I don’t think she’s scared.”
James grinned, glancing back at Gracie before saying loud enough for her to hear, “She’s baiting me.”
“Am not,” Gracie said, leaning over to peer into the oven, her fantastic ass on full display.
“Are too,” James said, and flipped through the channels. “I know what you want, and you’re sure as hell going to be getting it, so you can drop the sassy act.”
“We need a double oven,” Gracie called out, completely changing the subject, her jean-clad hips swaying hypnotically.
She might be his brother’s, but Gracie was a hard woman not to pay attention to, and Evan got distracted, unable to look away. Maddie once said she was Mary Ann and Ginger rolled into one package, and Evan couldn’t deny it was a good assessment. She was the kind of woman men stopped to stare at on the street, but was so open and accessible, everyone loved her. She was a flirt, wild, carefree, and had a rack that would not quit.
Pretty much the exact opposite of any woman James had ever dated.
“You can stop looking at her ass anytime,” James said, his tone amused and good-natured.
Evan ripped his gaze away and offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”
James shrugged. “It goes with the territory.”
“Do you get tired of it?” Evan asked, curious.
“Like most things in life, it has its advantages and disadvantages,” James said logically. He cast another glance back at Gracie, this time with affection. “She tends to make up for the disadvantages quite enthusiastically.”
Evan laughed. He bet she did. Gracie didn’t have a shy bone in her body, and they’d all witnessed her devotion to James.
His mind flashed to Penelope, remembering a time when she’d looked at him with the same devotion—before he’d thrown it away. Then he remembered her cold expression on Friday night, so different from the hot, needy looks she’d given him in their youth.
He gritted his teeth as he pictured her back then. Wet, swollen lips parted as she gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed, hair splayed over his chest.
Fuck. He shook his head, shifting in his chair. He was doing it again. He could not get her out of his mind. He’d been so good, for so long, but it was like floodgates had opened and he couldn’t close them. And he no longer knew if he wanted to.
That night, after the club, he’d been so tempted to go to her house. To explain. But why?
She’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.
He dragged a hand through his hair. She might remember, but it didn’t change that one crucial fact—she’d never forgive him for the night he’d taken her virginity and then been so cruel to her.
Nor should she.
“You okay?” James asked, ripping Evan away from his thoughts.
“What?” He forcibly relaxed into the chair. “Oh, yeah, I’m good.”
James studied him, his Donovan-family green eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Are you sure?”
“Yep,” Evan said, attention locking on the television. It was like without football to occupy his mind, he’d latched on to Penelope to obsess over.
He could feel James’s heavy gaze on him, but before he could probe further, Gracie called, “James, I need you.”
He gave Evan one more questioning look before getting up and walking into the kitchen.
Just then the doorbell rang.
Gracie’s brows furrowed. “Are we expecting anyone?”
James shook his head.
Needing something to do, Evan jumped up. “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks,” James said.
Evan walked to the front door, opened it, and blinked.
Jesus. It was Penelope.
Chapter Seven
“You!” Penelope yelled before she could stop herself. Completely unprepared for Evan standing in the doorway, taking up all the free space, stealing the air left in her lungs.
One dark brow rose. “Me.”
“What are you doing here?” Shocked, she was having a hard time composing herself. Evan was the last person she wanted to see. The last.
Expression unreadable, he propped his shoulder against the door frame. “Unlike you, I was invited.”
With those words her composure snapped back into place. He was right. She was the drop-in. Okay then, she’d do what she needed to do and get out as fast as possible. She smoothed her features into something she hoped resembled polite, and held up her file folder. “I apologize, I won’t be but a minute. I have to drop these off to Gracie and I thought I’d swing by on the way home.”
He wore a pair of jeans and a navy henley that molded to his broad chest. He looked far too good for comfort. She had to force her gaze to remain on his face and not roam all over his body. She remembered all too well those times she’d rested her head on his chest as he played with her until she was a hot, needy mess of ecstasy.
She pressed her lips together.
Stop. Why couldn’t she stop?
She’d gotten so good at not thinking about him, but now that he’d touched her, she hadn’t just taken a backward step, she’d slid all the way back down the mountain.
Their carnal, illicit past kept playing over and over again through her mind at an alarming rate. And seeing him in the flesh wasn’t helping matters.
But she was an adult, and as long as she maintained her cool facade things would go back to the way they’d always been. Polite with a healthy dose of antagonism. Perfectly mature.
He did not know what she was thinking.
Cool, dismissive, and unaffected. Her motto. She tilted her chin. “May I come in?”
Those damn jungle-cat eyes narrowed, then he straightened and stepped back to allow her entry.
She eyed the space between him and the door. She could make it without brushing against him. �
�Yes, well, I’ll hand these off and be on my way.”
He gestured toward the hallway. “They’re in the kitchen.”
“Fine,” she said in a tone she used for wayward union officials.
She walked through the doorway and, just as she was able to feel the heat of his body, he said, “Has anyone ever told you that you dress like a femme fatale?”
Her head snapped toward him in surprise. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Her voice that of a prim librarian, not a man-killer.
She dressed nothing like that. Yes, her charcoal suit was classically cut, with a pencil skirt and a wide black belt. And yes, she wore her hair sleek today, in a style reminiscent of the forties, but she looked professional, not lethal.
He said nothing, and the sound of the door clicking closed behind her was too loud in her ears.
Okay, she needed a plan. Lists helped calm her nerves. She walked down the hall and quickly started formulating one in her head.
1. Smile. She plastered a bright smile on her face.
2. Posture. She steeled her spine like her mother taught her a proper young lady should stand.
3. Explain the purpose of her visit. She clutched her folder.
4. Be brief. There’s no reason to linger.
5. Exit quickly. Have an excuse at the ready.
6. Go home and drink some wine. She mentally cataloged the bottles she had on hand.
7. Do not think about Evan. She’d create another list of other things she could think about later.
8. Go to bed early. She did have an early meeting tomorrow and getting the required eight hours of proper sleep was important.
By the time she’d reached the kitchen she’d settled considerably. She’d seen Evan a million times, and would for the rest of her life. It was no big deal.
Nothing, absolutely nothing, had changed.
James and Gracie turned to look at her.
Gracie gave her a huge smile. “Well, this is a surprise.”
Penelope nodded at the couple. Step three: explain the purpose of her visit. “I’m sorry for the interruption, but I brought over the vendor contract the venue needs for the benefit. I thought I could grab your quick signature so I can get it to them tomorrow.”
Gracie wiped her hands on a towel. “You didn’t have to make a special trip. You could have e-mailed them and I’d have dropped them by the office tomorrow.”
Step four: be brief.
“Please, you’re doing this as a favor. I don’t want you inconvenienced.” There, she’d explained things quite well. Penelope walked over and put the file on the counter. “I also printed you off a diagram of the space so you can figure out the best place to set up. Just let me know where you want the display and I’ll make sure you get first pick.”
James flicked off a pot on the stove, then turned to face her. “You’re a girl after my own heart, Pen. The most organized woman on the planet.”
Just what she needed to drive a man wild, organizational skills. The kind of women Evan dated probably didn’t have an efficient bone in their bodies. How could they, when they hardly wore any clothes during the Chicago winters?
Stop. Not her concern. She liked her organizational skills. Being efficient was high on her priority list. Driving a man wild was not. Stay on list.
She refused to look at Evan but could feel the weight of him bearing down on her.
Penelope was about to start preparing her exit statement when Gracie planted her hands on lush hips encased in jeans, and thrust out her magnificent chest. “Hey! I’m organized.”
The woman really should be illegal. She made sexy into an art form.
Penelope nibbled at her bottom lip. Not that she cared about those things. She certainly hadn’t thought ill of Gracie when Evan flirted shamelessly with her. She was too practical for that.
James slid an arm around Gracie’s waist. “I never said you weren’t.”
“It was implied.” Her voice indignant and put-upon, but she curled into James.
He squeezed her. “If you say so.”
Gracie’s expression scrunched up, as though she wanted to argue, but then she shrugged, laughed, and whatever chaos had been about to happen, passed.
Time to exit. Penelope ignored the desire to linger, and glanced toward the front door before pointing to the documents. “I had our legal department vet the contract, just your standard disclaimers. So if you could sign on the dotted line I’ll be on my way.”
All of a sudden Gracie spun away from James and clapped her hands. “You should stay for dinner. We’ve got plenty.”
Penelope couldn’t help it, and her attention flew to Evan. Their gazes locked for a fraction of a second, and awareness flared between them, before she jerked away. Heart beating wildly, she chanted in her head, exit, exit, exit until she found her voice. “That’s sweet of you, but I’ve got a car circling, and I don’t want to intrude.”
She gritted her teeth. What was wrong with her? That wasn’t on her list. She’d prepared the dinner meeting excuse. But no, her brain malfunctioned and provided the lamest excuse in the history of excuses.
“Don’t be silly,” Gracie said. “You never intrude.”
James moved to the cabinet and pulled out another plate. “You’re staying and we won’t take no for an answer. We have far too much food and we need you to help us eat it.”
Okay, there was time to salvage the exit part of her plan. She could still claim a meeting, which was completely believable. She opened her mouth to speak the words, but instead she waved ineffectually at the door. “The car.”
What. The. Hell. Come on, Penelope, say the words, you have a meeting. Say them! Her mind screamed but her mouth stayed stubbornly shut.
“I’ll take you home,” Evan said, speaking for the first time.
Oh no. She forced her jaw to remain hinged, instead of falling open the way she wanted to. This wasn’t helping.
And sadly, she had no one to blame but herself, because clearly some part of her wanted to stay.
But he wasn’t helping either. They had rules. Silent agreements. No being alone. Ever. Yes, James and Gracie were still there acting as a buffer, but still.
In all these years they’d managed to avoid ever being each other’s rides. Tonight was not the time to change that. Especially when she could still feel his hands on her skin, his mouth skimming over her stomach.
Now she really needed an excuse.
Damn him. He knew perfectly well she had no good reason to refuse a ride home. After all, they were lifelong friends. It would look strange if she refused. But she had to try because being alone with him was not smart. Not now, they were too on edge, the past too close. She attempted to use mental telepathy to drop this, while saying in a mild tone, “That’s not necessary. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”
He met her gaze, and if she wasn’t mistaken the gleam of challenge shone in his green eyes. Dark green, panther eyes. The eyes of a predator. She cursed herself for reading that shape-shifter romance last night. Now look at her, thinking such ridiculous nonsense. “You’re on the way.”
She was, but she’d hoped no one would notice. She bit her bottom lip and searched for a way out.
Before she could speak, Gracie said, “Great. It’s settled then.”
No, wait, her mythical meeting.
James grabbed a set of silverware and put it on the plate he’d placed on the counter. “Evan’s got you. So you can call the driver.”
Do not look at him. Not one little peek. She bit her lip and looked anyway.
The second their eyes met, he said, in a voice tinged with that private tone he used on her, “Yeah, Pen, I’ve got you.”
Her pulse pounded as her stomach did a little flip of excitement.
Needing something to do, she scrounged around in her purse, even though she knew exactly where her cell was, before grabbing it from its place in her side pocket.
Okay, this wasn’t a big deal. She’d had a thousand dinners with him in
her lifetime. This was no different. Well, a little different since she’d be alone with him later. But she’d made her bed, now she had to lie in it. She put on a bright smile. “Let me just call Steven and let him know he can go.”
Despite her normally impeccable judgment, she’d always made rash decisions where Evan was concerned. Clearly age hadn’t cured her. Later, much later, when she was tucked into bed alone, she’d contemplate her actions.
But for now, she’d deal.
After Penelope was done with her call, Gracie shoved a glass of wine in her hand, and she was able to avoid Evan entirely as they got ready for dinner.
The second she sat down across from him, her attention locked on his, as though unable to help herself.
Her breath stalled in her chest.
He watched her, his expression intent as his gaze roamed over her face, lingered on her lips, before rising again to meet her eyes.
There was heat, far too much of it.
It forced her to be honest. As much as she wanted to blame him, she wasn’t any better. Some part of her wanted to stay, and right now, that part of her was more powerful than her desire to stay the hell away from him.
Like she should.
Gracie piled a mountain of food onto her plate, pulling her from her thoughts.
Penelope blinked down at the four thick slices of beef tenderloin. “Geez, Gracie, how much do you think I can eat?”
Gracie winked at her. “It’s low carb.”
James laughed. “Not when combined with mashed potatoes.”
Gracie put the plate down, sat in her chair before handing Penelope said bowl, and smirked. “Lobster mashed potatoes.”
“Oh God, that sounds divine,” Penelope said, putting a scoopful onto her plate.
She passed the bowl to Evan and their fingers tangled for a moment, shooting a jolt of electricity up her arm. His thumb brushed over her hand and she had to force herself not to jerk back.
Rid of the mashed potatoes, she concentrated on her plate. The food did look delicious. Despite living alone, she tried to cook nice meals for herself, but it wasn’t always easy with her demanding schedule. Sometimes it was just easier to pick up a salad from Starbucks, along with her late-night caffeine fix, before heading to her home office to work and eat over her desk. This had been her pattern over the last couple of weeks, with the Hayes deal and the other projects heating up, and she hadn’t tasted anything homemade in a dog’s age.
As Good as New Page 7
