by Linda Howard
And yet, for all the intensity of his desire, he was oddly content to wait. He would have her. For now he was caught in the enchantment of her slow smile, in the luminous sheen of her skin, in her warm, female scent that no perfume could match. Simply to sit beside her was to be seduced, and he was more than willing.
Having removed his shoes, he rolled up the legs of his khaki pants and stuck his feet into the water. The water was tepid, but refreshing in contrast to the heat of his skin. It made him feel almost comfortable.
“It isn’t seven o’clock yet,” she pointed out, but she was smiling.
“I wanted to make sure you hadn’t chickened out.”
“Not yet. Give me a couple of hours.”
Despite the teasing, he was certain she wouldn’t have stood him up. She might be nervous, even a little reluctant, but she had agreed, and she would keep her word. Her lack of enthusiasm in going out with him might have been insulting if he hadn’t known how potent her physical reaction to him was. Whatever reasons she had for being wary of him, her body was oblivious to them.
She lazily moved her feet back and forth, watching the water swirl around her ankles. After a minute of wondering about the advisability of bringing up the subject that had been bothering her so much, she decided to do so, anyway. “Robert, have you ever let anyone really get close to you? Has anyone ever truly known you?”
She felt his stillness, just for a split second. Then he said in a light tone, “I’ve been trying to get close to you from the moment I first saw you.”
She turned her head and found him watching her, his ice-green eyes cool and unreadable. “That was a nice evasion, but you just demonstrated what I meant.”
“I did? What was that?” he murmured indulgently, leaning forward to press his lips to her bare shoulder.
She didn’t let that burning little caress distract her. “How you deflect personal questions without answering them. How you keep everyone at arm’s length. How you watch and manipulate and never give away anything of your real thoughts or feelings.”
He looked amused. “You’re accusing me of being difficult to get to know, when you’re as open as the Sphinx?”
“We both have our defenses,” she admitted readily.
“Suppose I turn your questions around?” he said, watching her intently. “Have you ever let anyone get close to you and really get to know you?”
A pang went through her. “Of course. My family…and Matt.”
She lapsed into silence then, and Robert saw the sadness move over her face, like a cloud passing over the sun. Matt again! What had been so special about an eighteen-year-old boy that twelve years later just the mention of his name could make her grieve? He didn’t like himself for the way he felt, violently jealous and resentful of a dead boy. But at least Matt’s memory had diverted Evie from her uncomfortable line of questioning.
She seemed content to sit in silence now, dabbling her feet in the water and watching the sunlight change patterns as it moved lower in the sky. Robert left her to her thoughts, suddenly preoccupied with his own.
Her perception was disturbing. She had, unfortunately, been dead on the money. He had always felt it necessary to keep a large part of himself private; the persona he presented to the world, that of a wealthy, urbane businessman, was not false. It was merely a small part of the whole, the part that he chose to display. It worked very well; it was perfect for doing business, for courting and seducing the women he wanted, and was an entrée into those parts of the world where his business was not quite what it seemed.
None of his closest associates suspected that he was anything other than the cool, controlled executive. They didn’t know about his taste for adventure, or the way he relished danger. They didn’t know about the extremely risky favors he had done, out of sheer patriotism, for various government departments and agencies. They didn’t know about all the ongoing, specialized training he did to keep himself in shape and his skills sharp. They didn’t know about his volcanic temper, because he kept it under ruthless control. Robert knew himself well, knew his own lethal capabilities. It had always seemed better to keep the intense aspects of his personality to himself, to never unleash the sheer battering force of which he was capable. If that meant no one ever really knew him, he was content with that. There was a certain safety in it.
No woman had ever reached the seething core of his emotions, had ever made him lose control. He never wanted to truly love a woman in the romantic sense, to find himself open to her, vulnerable to her. He planned to marry someday, and his wife would be supremely happy. He would treat her with every care and consideration, pleasing her in bed and cosseting her out of it. She would never want for anything. He would be a tender, affectionate husband and father. And she would never know that she had never truly reached him, that his heart remained whole, in his isolated core.
Madelyn, of course, knew that there were fiercely guarded depths to him, but she had never probed. She had known herself to be loved, and that was enough for her. His sister was a formidable person in her own right, her lazy manner masking an almost frightening determination, as her husband had discovered to his great surprise.
But how could Evie, on such short acquaintance, so clearly see what others never did? It made him feel exposed, and he didn’t like it one damn bit. He would have to be more careful around her.
The sun was shining full on his back now, and his spine was prickling with sweat. Deciding that the silence had gone on long enough, he asked in an idle tone, “Where’s your truck?”
“I’m having a new motor put in it,” she replied. “I might have it back by tomorrow afternoon, but until then I’m using the boat to get to the marina and back.”
He waited, but there was no additional explanation. Surprised, he realized that she wasn’t going to tell him about the motor blowing, wasn’t going to broadcast her troubles in any way. He was accustomed to people bringing their problems to him for deft handling. He had also thought it possible that Evie would ask him for a loan to cover the repairs. They hadn’t discussed his financial status, but she had seen the new boat, the new Jeep, the house on the waterfront, and she was far from stupid; she had to know he had money. He wouldn’t have given her a loan, of course, because that would have defeated his subtle maneuvering to put financial pressure on her, but still, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d asked. Instead, she hadn’t even planned to tell him that her truck had broken down.
“If you need to go anywhere, call me,” he finally offered.
“Thanks, but I don’t have any errands that can’t be put off until I get the truck back.”
“There’s no need to put them off,” he insisted gently. “Just call me.”
She smiled and let the subject drop, but he knew she wouldn’t call. Even if he installed himself at the marina until her truck was repaired, she wouldn’t tell him if she needed anything.
He took her hand and gently stroked her fingers. “You haven’t asked me where we’re going tonight.”
She gave him a surprised look. “I hadn’t thought about it.” That was the truth. Where they went was inconsequential; the fact that she would be with him was what had occupied her mind.
“That isn’t very flattering,” he said with a faint smile.
“I didn’t say I hadn’t thought about going out with you. It’s just that the where never entered my mind.”
The sophisticated socialites he normally squired about New York and the world’s other major cities would never have made such an artless confession. Or rather, if they had, it would have been in an intimately flirtatious manner. Evie wasn’t flirting. She had simply stated the truth and let him take it as he would. He wanted to kiss her for it but refrained for now. She would be more relaxed if she didn’t have to deal with a seduction attempt every time she saw him.
Then she turned to him, brown eyes grave and steady. “I answered your question,” she said. “Now answer mine.”
“Ah.” So she had be
en delayed but not diverted. Swiftly he decided on an answer that would satisfy her but not leave him open. It had the advantage of being the truth, as far as it went. “I’m a private person,” he said quietly. “I don’t blurt out my life story to anyone who asks. You don’t either, so you should understand that.”
Those golden brown eyes studied him for another long moment; then, with a sigh, she turned away. He sensed that his answer hadn’t satisfied her, but that she wasn’t going to ask again. The sensation of being given up on wasn’t a pleasant one, but he didn’t want her to keep prying, either.
He checked his watch. There were a few calls he had to make before picking her up for the evening, not to mention showering and changing clothes. He kissed her shoulder again and got to his feet. “I have to leave or I’ll be late to an appointment. Don’t stay out much longer or you’ll get a sunburn. Your shoulders are already hot.”
“All right. I’ll see you at seven.” She remained sitting on the dock, and Robert looked down at her streaked tawny head with stifled frustration. Just when he thought he was finally making serious progress with her, she mentally retreated again, like a turtle withdrawing into its shell. But this afternoon’s mood was an odd blend of contentment, melancholy and resignation. Maybe she was worried about the truck; maybe she was nervous about their first date, though why she should be, when he’d already had her half-naked, was beyond his comprehension.
The truth was that she was as opaque to him as he was to others. He had always had the ability to read people, but Evie’s mind was either closed to him or she reacted in a totally unexpected way. He couldn’t predict what she would do or tell what she was thinking, and it was slowly driving him mad. He forced himself to walk away, rather than stand there waiting for her to look up at him. What would that accomplish? It was likely that she would figure out why he was waiting and look up just to get it over with, so he would go. Little mind games were only for the insecure, and Robert didn’t have an insecure bone in his body. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to leave her. The only time he wasn’t worried about what she was doing was when he was with her.
As he climbed into the Jeep, he wryly reflected that it was a sad state of affairs when he was so obsessed with a woman he couldn’t trust out of his sight.
Evie remained where she was until long after the sound of the Jeep’s engine had faded in the distance. Robert had stonewalled her questions, and sadly she realized that he simply wasn’t going to allow her to get close to him. She supposed she could make a pest of herself and keep yammering at him, but that would only make him close up more. No, if she wanted a relationship with him, she would have to content herself with the litte he was comfortable in giving. She had known Matt to the bone and loved him as deeply. How ironic it was that now she had fallen in love with a man who allowed her to touch only the surface.
Finally she pulled her feet out of the water and stood. This had been a day of fretting, though she had tried not to. She would be better off getting ready for her big date. She had the feeling she would need every bit of preparation she could manage.
Chapter Ten
A woman couldn’t have asked for a more perfect escort, she realized about halfway through the evening. For all his sophistication, or perhaps because of it, there was something very old-fashioned in the courtesy and protectiveness with which he treated her. Everything was arranged for her pleasure, her comfort, and she herself was old-fashioned enough, Southern enough, to accept it as the way things should be. Robert Cannon was courting her, so of course he should make certain she was pleased by the evening.
His attention was solely on her. He didn’t eye other women, though she noticed other women watching him. He held her chair for her whenever she got up or sat down, poured wine for her and asked the maitre d’ to turn up the thermostat when he noticed her shivering. It was a matter of his own presence that his request was instantly honored. Whenever they walked, his hand rested warmly on the small of her back in a protective, possessive touch.
In no time, he had put her at ease. It was only natural that she had been nervous about the evening; after all, she hadn’t been on a date in twelve years, and there was a great deal of difference between eighteen and thirty. Back then a date had been a hamburger and a movie, or just getting together with a bunch of friends at the skating rink. She wasn’t at all certain what one did on a date with a man who was used to the most cosmopolitan of entertainments.
As she watched his dark, lean face, she realized how truly sophisticated he was. He had brought her to a very nice restaurant in Huntsville, but she was well aware that it didn’t compare to the sort of establishments available in New York or Paris or New Orleans. Not by even a hint, though, did he indicate that the standards were less than those to which he was accustomed. Others, worldly but less sophisticated—and certainly less polite—would have subtly tried to impress by describing the truly good restaurants where they’d eaten. Not Robert. She doubted that he even thought of it, for he had the true sophisticate’s knack of being at home in any surrounding. He didn’t rate or compare; he simply enjoyed. He would have been as happy eating barbecue with his fingers as he was dining with gold flatware and blotting his mouth with a starched linen napkin.
Oh, God. Not only did he play with babies, he was totally comfortable in her world. Just one more thing to love.
He waved his fingers in front of her face. “You’ve been watching me and smiling for about five minutes,” he said with amusement coloring his tone. “Ordinarily I’d be flattered, but somehow it makes me uneasy.”
Her mouth quirked as she picked up her fork. “It shouldn’t, because actually it was flattering. I was thinking how comfortable you are down here, despite how different things are.”
He shrugged and said gently, “The differences are mostly good ones, though I admit I wasn’t prepared for the heat. Somehow, ninety degrees in New York is different from ninety degrees here.”
Her brows lifted delicately. “Ninety degrees isn’t all that hot.”
He chuckled and again wondered briefly at her ability to amuse him. It wasn’t anything overt, just the subtle differences in her outlook and the way she phrased it. “That’s the difference, one of attitude. Though, of course, it gets hotter than that occasionally, to a New Yorker ninety degrees is hot. To you, it’s a nice day.”
“Not exactly. Ninety degrees is hot to us, too. It’s just that, compared to a hundred degrees, it isn’t bad.”
“Like I said, attitude.” He sipped his wine. “I like New York for what it is. I like it down here for the same reason. In New York there’s an air of excitement and energy, the opera and ballet and museums. Here, you have clean air, no overcrowding, no traffic jams. No one seems to hurry. People smile at strangers.” His eyes lingered on her face, and when he continued his voice was a little deeper. “Though I admit I’ve been disappointed that I haven’t heard you say ‘y’all’ at all. In fact, I’ve heard it very few times since I’ve been here.”
She hid her smile. “Why would I say it to you? Y’all is plural. You’re singular.”
“Is it? That minor detail had escaped me.”
“That you’re singular?” She paused, aware that she was trespassing into his private life and that he might well shut down as he had that afternoon. “Have you ever been married?”
He sipped his wine again, and his eyes glittered at her over the rim of the glass. “No,” he replied easily. “I was engaged once, when I was in college, but we both realized in time that getting married—particularly to each other—would have been a stupid thing to do.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty-six. To satisfy any other pertinent questions you may have, my sexual interest is exclusively in women. I’ve never done drugs, and I don’t have any communicable diseases. My parents are dead, but I have a sister, Madelyn, who lives in Montana with her husband and two sons. There are a few distant cousins, but we don’t keep in touch.”
She regarded him calmly. H
e was totally relaxed, telling her that he didn’t regard those details of his life as being particularly revealing. They were simply facts. She listened, though, because such minutiae made up the skeleton of his life. “Becky and I have relatives scattered all over the state,” she said. “One of my uncles has a huge farm down around Montgomery, and every June we get together there for a family reunion. We aren’t a close family, but we’re friendly, and it’s a way to stay in touch. If it wasn’t for the reunion, Jason and Paige would never know Becky’s side of the family, only their father’s, so we make an effort to go every year.”
“Your parents are dead?” He knew they were, for that had been in the supplementary report he had received.
“Yes.” The golden glow in her eyes dimmed. “Becky is the only immediate family I have. When Mom died, I lived with Becky and Paul until Matt and I married.” Her voice faltered, just a little, at the end.
“What about afterward?” he asked gently.
“Then I lived with Matt’s parents.” The words were soft, almost soundless. “Where I live now. It was their house. The marina was theirs, too. Matt was their only child, and when they died, they left everything to me.”
Robert was pierced by another arrow of jealousy. She was still living in the house where Matt had grown up; there was no way she could walk into that house without being reminded of him at every turn. “Have you ever thought of moving? Of buying a more modern house?”
