Dreams Don't Wait (Contemporary romance)

by EC Sheedy

  "She's pretty." Jenny pointed an impolite finger at a new arrival.

  Evan followed it until her eyes rested on one of the most striking women she'd ever seen. Her hair was a fiery, unapologetic red, her skin ivory, and her strapless black linen sundress pure perfection. As Linc started to help this guest remove her short jacket, the woman leaned back into him and whispered something in his ear. Hands on her shoulders, he smiled, and unaccountably, Evan's blood heated at least fifty degrees. She stared fixedly at the twosome. It was beginning to look as if they were a permanent freeze-frame, then Linc stepped back. Took the man an awfully long time to help her with an awfully small jacket.

  The woman glanced around the flower-bedecked hall. "Oh, Lincoln, how wonderful everything looks. But you should have called me. I could have helped with the food... or something. Really, darling, I would have been happy to lend a hand."

  Evan rolled her eyes. Yeah, right! The hands the striking redhead referred to were tipped with perfectly manicured nails at least an inch long.

  Linc hung up her jacket and smiled. "Somehow, I can't see you grubbing away in the kitchen, Natalie. Don't you keep telling me that you were made for better things?"

  Natalie's laugh tinkled upward. It was the first time Evan knew that a laugh could actually, really and truly, tinkle. She hated it.

  "So I do, and those better things are seldom done in the kitchen—though anything's possible," she purred. "Besides, I keep forgetting you have that wonderful woman working for you. What's her name?"

  Linc hesitated for the briefest moment. "Maud. And yes, she is wonderful."

  The front door opened again, whoever it was not bothering to ring the doorbell.

  Jenny didn't hesitate. "Aunt Caressa! Up here." She yelled and waved. No one in the hall could miss her—or Evan. Linc frowned when he caught her eye, and Evan was glad he couldn't make out the fresh wave of pink that washed across her face. She quickly took a step away from the railing.

  Caressa lifted her hand and smiled. "Hi, sweets. Come and give your spinster aunt a hug. After the day I've had, I need it." As Jenny hurtled down the stairs, Caressa craned her neck. "Is that you up there, Evan?" she asked as Jenny launched herself into her arms.

  Damn! "Yes, it's me, Caressa."

  "Are you coming down?" Caressa asked.

  Now she had Natalie's full attention, who looked first at Evan, then, questioningly, to Linc. He appeared not to notice.

  Evan was quick to respond. "Uh, no, I don't think so. I was getting Jen's things. She's staying with me tonight." She turned her attention to Jenny. "Come on, Jen, we'd better go."

  "You're not coming to the party?" Caressa turned to Linc. "Tell me, dear brother, were you born a jerk or do you have to work at it?"

  Evan groaned, and the blaze on her face burned hotter.

  For some strange reason, Linc smiled. It looked like he tried not to, because his lips twitched slightly before his full grin emerged, along with those wonderful sexy creases near his mouth. His eyes never left Evan's as his smile widened.

  Damn the man! He was enjoying this.

  And Caressa wasn't through with him. "Why on earth would you have her work tonight of all nights? She's my friend and—"

  "Caressa, stop. You're embarrassing me. Come on, Jenny, please. Let's go." To Evan's immense relief, Caressa shut up and Jenny obeyed.

  In minutes they were down the back stairs, out of the house, and in the cabin. Evan had the insane urge to bar the door behind her. She'd felt like a fool with that... Natalie woman looking at her as if she'd oozed out from under the sink. Then there was Linc, breaking into that ridiculous smile.

  Humph!

  "Come on, Jen, let's get you to bed. But first I think you can use some soap and water." She certainly didn't need to worry about feeding the weary child. Under the ominous glares of the declawed head caterer, she and Cal had made repeated, and very successful, raids on Linc's gourmet buffet.

  Evan pointed the tired girl to the bathroom and followed her in to switch on the light. While she was helping Jenny wash and get ready for bed, she glanced up to the mirror over the sink. She closed her eyes and nodded sickly, as understanding dawned. No wonder Linc had smiled. He should have laughed outright.

  She was a sight. Her hair was a mess; there was a huge black smudge on her forehead and something icky and white on her cheek. She rubbed at it. Flour? She tasted it. Almond paste. How it got there, she had no idea. She looked like a checkerboard.

  A surprisingly agreeable and very tired Jenny went straight to bed, and Evan got into the tub. As she sank into the steaming water, her embarrassed anger gave way to a self-defense mechanism. She told herself she didn't care if she looked like a gargoyle, and Linc could laugh all he wanted, as long as she had this cabin. Those thoughts firmly in mind, she set to scrubbing away the grit and aches accumulated during the long, unsettling day.

  Donning a nightgown and robe, she padded barefoot into the kitchen and made herself dinner—a peanut butter and peach jam sandwich and a glass of milk. She heard the music drifting from Linc's patio on the warm night air and decided to take her milk outside. Sitting on the top step, she looked at the full, glorious moon admiring itself in the silky ocean and sipped her milk. She tilted her head; the band was playing... she hummed a few bars... "Chances Are"—an old Johnny Mathis song. She closed her eyes and sang along.

  "Do you mind an audience?"

  Evan's eyes popped open, and she spilled the last few drops of milk on the step. "What are you doing here?"

  Linc's jacket was off, and he was carrying a bottle of wine and two glasses. "I thought you might like something to drink."

  "Are you crazy? You've got over a hundred guests up there." She nodded in the direction of his brilliantly lit house.

  "That's exactly why I'm here. The party is at full boil. No one will notice I'm gone." He poured a glass of white wine and handed it to her. She eyed it warily.

  "Take it. It's a very good year. I promise."

  She accepted it. "This is not one of your better ideas."

  He poured the second glass and put the bottle on the ground before joining her on the porch. "I think it's the best idea I've had in months, maybe years."

  His leg brushed hers as he sat down beside her, and she pulled away. "Where's Jenny?" he asked.

  "Asleep."

  "She didn't give you any trouble?"

  "No. She was too tired."

  "Hmm." He didn't seem inclined to discuss Jenny. He didn't seem inclined to talk at all. He just sat there staring at the moon and drinking his wine.

  Evan stole a sideways glance. The moon silvered his dark gold hair and cast mysterious shadows over his face. Stark and dramatic, he was a picture, a classic, finely etched black-and-white photograph. But his mouth, normally tense and hard-lined, was unusually relaxed—which made him even more dangerously attractive. She trembled as if from a chill.

  "What are you thinking?" he asked, turning to look at her.

  "I'm thinking you should go back to your guests," she mumbled.

  "What were you really thinking?" His eyes pinned her, daring, demanding the truth.

  Sex. She was thinking about sex. She was, to put it bluntly, lusting for him. If he only knew...

  "I was thinking that—" She stopped, as another old Johnny Mathis hit wafted through the night. Moonlight Becomes You. This was crazy. Who was playing that drippy music anyway? She couldn't take any more. She wouldn't take any more.

  "That?" Linc prodded.

  "I'm tired. It's been a long day." She stood. "Good night. Thank you for the wine."

  "Don't go. Please."

  For a moment he didn't move. Then he carefully set down his half-full wineglass. He locked his hands between his knees and was silent. The eerie cry of a loon echoed across the water. Evan stood over him, unmoving, her feet stubbornly refusing the command of her commonsense.

  "Jenny isn't mine, Evan." He did not raise his eyes to hers.

  "Pardon?" she said
, certain she hadn't heard him right.

  "Jenny's not my daughter."

  "I don't understand." And she didn't. Three seconds ago she was thinking about—well, never mind what she was thinking about—and now she was struggling to grasp Linc's serious statement, the implications of it.

  He stood, faced her, and shoved both hands in the pockets of his slacks. His face was grave. "I don't expect you to understand. But believe this, I love Jenny as though she were my own blood."

  A million questions hovered on her lips, but she hesitated to ask any of them. Linc's revelation was startling enough, but why had he felt compelled to tell her, and why tonight?

  He eyed her carefully, one eyebrow lifting. "What, no questions?"

  "If I thought you'd answer them, perhaps, but you won't."

  "You're right, I won't. I just wanted you to know."

  Still in semi shock, she stared at him. "I do have one question."

  He stared back and nodded.

  "Why me? Why tell me?" She gestured in the direction of his large, guest-filled house. "And why tonight."

  He took a step closer and lifted her chin. Evan leaned back on the porch railing, all too conscious of her light robe and nightgown. He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and for a moment, she thought he wasn't going to answer her.

  "I think it was when I saw you standing on that balcony smudged with angel dust and chimney soot. It was good to see Jenny's hand in yours. She trusts you. And so do I. Can we leave it there?"

  She wanted to say more, but settled for "Fair enough."

  Linc's eyes strayed to her mouth. "On second thought, maybe we won't leave it quite there."

  His hand slid down her cheek to rest on her throat, and his eyes darkened. He bent his head and brushed his lips over hers so lightly, the kiss was more dream than reality. Evan's lips parted, and her breath coiled in her throat, as her hands gripped the rail behind her. When he lifted his head, she was mesmerized by the heat and hunger in his eyes. She ached to touch him, stroke his warm skin. Gripping the railing until her fingers were bloodless, she closed her eyes, tried to shut out the cool moonlight and a man who was anything but cool. Her head was spinning.

  "Evan," he whispered, his tone softly insistent. "The porch rail will stand without your support, I promise." His mouth quirked into a grin. "I'm an architect; I know about these things." He stroked her arm, running a hand behind her to touch her white-knuckled lock on the rail.

  "That's just the trouble. You know a lot of things I don't." She held fast to the railing.

  He nuzzled her throat. "And that makes you nervous?" He mumbled the words somewhere close to her ear, and she bent her neck to allow him greater access.

  "It makes me wary, yes."

  He pulled back to look into her eyes. "Good. You should be wary of me. My, uh, record with the fairer sex has more than its share of failures." He lowered his head. "On the other hand, there are things I do very, very well."

  "Such as?" She bit her lip. Too late.

  He smiled.

  She blushed.

  "You'd better go. It's been a long day. Besides, I'm not much good at sophisticated patter."

  "No, you're not. One of the things I like best about you. You say what you mean, and you don't ask questions. But, sweet one, I don't think that smile of yours always comes so easy. I think we both have stories to tell when the time is right, and then—" he gave her a challenging look "—maybe we can take the next step."

  Next step! She twisted her chin from his hand before turning back to look at him. "There's no next step to take. We agreed..." Her voice turned pleading. "Why are you doing this? You'll ruin everything. What we have here, Jenny, the cabin, Maud—it works. It's enough."

  "It can be better," he added. "Much better."

  Evan let out an exasperated breath. Her brain could neither process, nor keep up with, this seesaw conversation. She remained silent, tense—and afraid. There were feelings here she recognized, her body stirring to a male touch, an urge for physical satisfaction, and there was... something else. Indefinably connected with Linc, that something was profoundly, frighteningly new.

  "You don't understand—or won't understand." She swallowed. "I don't want a man, any man. It, they—it doesn't work for me. Cal's father..." She hesitated. "And then when I was eighteen, I—" She stopped. It was futile. She wasn't accustomed to talking about it, and the right words wouldn't come.

  "They were boys, not men," he said, his expression sober. "There's a difference. Trust me."

  She shook her head. "That's just it, Linc. I don't think I can."

  Chapter 7

  Maud came back the following morning, and Evan opened the cabin door to her knock shortly before noon. "I hope I'm not intruding," she said.

  Evan hugged her. "Of course not. How's your mother?"

  "For now resting comfortably. Thank God, the worst seems to be over."

  "I'm so glad." Evan was happy to see the worry lines eased over Maud's brow. "The coffee's fresh. Do you have time for one?"

  "That would be wonderful." She followed Evan to the counter, chatting amiably about how her mother had revived almost the minute she'd arrived at the hospital.

  "... not that I should be surprised," she finished. "Mother's a fighter, always has been." She paused. "But where's that handsome son of yours?"

  "Not back from Mike's yet. Any minute now. I could've kept Jenny longer, you know—given you a chance to settle back in. But Linc insisted on picking her up early." And he hadn't mentioned last night, which she was super grateful for.

  "He wanted to take her out for brunch." Maud looked around the newly renovated cabin for the first time. "My! What a transformation. Lincoln and Caressa did a marvelous job, didn't they?" Her gaze rested briefly on the two Waterford wineglasses sitting on the sink beside a half-full bottle of wine. Damn!

  "Yes, they did. It's amazing," she replied, veering away from Maud's questioning look.

  Maud went on. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of things yesterday. Linc said the party was a great success."

  "Glad to hear it." She didn't want to talk about last night.

  "As a way of saying thanks, Linc and I want you and Cal to come to dinner tonight."

  "Thank you, but I'm still not completely settled here. I've got grocery shopping to do and clothes to get ready for work tomorrow. Maybe another time?"

  Maud studied her a moment. "All right, but you'd better not tell Cal he's going to miss out on beef Stroganoff."

  Evan smiled, relieved Maud didn't pressure her to accept Linc's invitation. She badly needed time away from him, time to herself. "Don't worry, I won't. Cal would never forgive me."

  "Never forgive you for what?" Cal asked, stepping through the open doorway.

  "Nothing," Evan lied.

  Cal's gaze switched to Maud.

  "It's nothing, dear. Your mother just said you both couldn't come to dinner tonight." She sighed. "So I guess I'm going to have to throw out all my beef Stroganoff."

  "Are you kidding me?" Cal's eyes swung back to Evan. "Mo-om!"

  Evan's mouth twitched when she looked at Maud. "Traitor."

  "Will seven be all right?" Maud answered without a trace of smugness.

  * * *

  Linc directed his ears to Jenny and his eyes to Evan, who'd managed to avoid his gaze all through dinner. On the occasions he did catch her eye, she instantly diverted her attention to the dinner-table chatter.

  She was as edgy as a park squirrel.

  He considered whether or not he'd made a mistake going to the cabin last night, but decided no. He'd wanted to be with her. Badly. So he made it happen. What he wasn't sure about was telling her about Jenny. Probably not his smartest move, and not like him. Not wanting to think about it now, he turned back to the dinner conversation.

  "I don't know, Cal. You've never even been on a boat before. You might get sick, you know," Evan said.

  "If I get sick, I'll put my head over the side and—"


  Evan raised a hand. "I get the picture. I hope you're as blasé if the real thing happens."

  "So... it's okay?" Cal's look was eager.

  "One week?"

  Cal nodded.

  "And how big is the boat, again?"

  "Huge! Over forty feet. The Careys lived on it for over a year once. If you're tensed up about it, call Mike's mom."

  Evan gave him a searching look. "Okay, I'll call her tomorrow—see what you need to take along."

  "All right!" Cal's grin nearly split his face.

  "Now how about a little galley practice?" She nodded at the dishes and started to clear.

  Linc put his hand over hers. "Leave those," he said. "I want to show you something." He turned to Maud. "Do you mind?"

  "Of course not. Evan did more than her share yesterday. Run along while there's still daylight."

  Evan looked wary, glancing first at him, then Maud. He felt her hand tense under his.

  "Go on, Evan," Maud urged. "It'll do you good to get out for a while. And I've got Cal to help me."

  Cal looked at Linc, Maud, and finally his mother, with the intensity reserved for a calculus final. When he got it—whatever he perceived it to be—he smirked knowingly. "Yeah, sure. Go for it, guys. Just don't stay out too late. Like you always say, mom, morning comes early." With that he stood and started to clear the table.

  Linc had to smile.

  Evan's mouth held a straight line.

  * * *

  Evan was outside standing beside Linc's black Lexus before she knew what had happened. She might as well have been put on a conveyer belt. Even Jenny hadn't helped, bought off quickly by the promise of staying up to watch a Disney movie with Cal.

  She put a hand on the hood of the car and glared at Linc. "What's going on here?"

  "I want to show you something."

  "And if I don't want to see it?"

  "Get in the car, Evan. You can't possibly be that afraid of being alone with me."

  "I'm not afraid of anything. Although it's not every day I get kidnapped."

  "I'd say railroaded is more accurate. And for your information, we're going to look at a site. I've just had the go-ahead on a new waterfront hotel and convention center project." For the briefest moment, he looked uncertain. "I thought you might like to see it."