Bring Me to Life

by Kira Sinclair

  Somehow she’d found the strength to keep going after she thought Evan died, but it had been touch and go. And she needed him to understand just how close to the edge she’d come.

  “Do you know how tempting it was to follow my dad?”

  Evan’s entire body bucked, as if her words had been a physical blow.

  He tried to pull away so he could look at her, but Tatum tightened her hold, keeping his face buried in the crook of her neck. She couldn’t look at him and say these words. Hell, she’d barely been able to look at herself for weeks after the cowardly thoughts had invaded her brain.

  “Those first days were bad, but there were people. Lots of people. Other wives. Your friends. Even your parents.”

  “Surprised they bothered to show up.” His bitter words slipped across her skin. She didn’t blame him for the response. His childhood hadn’t been any better than hers.

  His father was a mean drunk, his mother a weak woman who accepted the occasional slap and shove as nothing but normal. She hadn’t tried to stop her husband from turning his beer-soaked anger on their only son. She’d viewed it as a personal reprieve.

  Tatum hated to burst Evan’s bubble at the thought his parents might have shown a modicum of parental feelings at his death. But his tone of voice said he probably wasn’t harboring such thoughts anyway. “They showed up hoping they’d get some money. When I told them I was your sole beneficiary and had no intention of giving them a damn thing, they hightailed it back to Detroit.”

  “Where they belong.”

  Tatum hummed in agreement.

  “But then everyone went away. People returned to their lives, as they should have, and I was left alone with nothing and no one.”

  A charged silence filled the room, until his voice, softened by regret and something more whispered against her skin, “You’re not alone now.”

  No, no she wasn’t. “No. I’ve found a place where I belong. Friends who matter and would do anything for me. And I’d do anything for them. Even the men in their lives have become important to me.”

  This time when he applied pressure on her hold, trying to dive back, she let him go.

  His fingers slipped softly across her skin, down her throat, from the raised edge of one collarbone to the other.

  “I meant me, Tatum. You have me.”

  “No, I don’t, Evan. You said so yourself, you’re going back to that life. And unlike before, I’m no longer willing to follow you.”

  * * *

  MORE THAN TWELVE hours later, her words continued to echo through his head like the death knell of every dream that had kept him alive.

  No, he wasn’t accepting it. Despite the cool reserve she was trying to hide behind, she still cared for him. Definitely responded to him.

  He wasn’t the kind of man who walked away from a challenge, even when it might be the smart thing to do. He had a couple of weeks to make her change her mind. To show her they could have the life they’d lived before.

  She was just scared. And, frankly, he didn’t blame her.

  However, her reaction only solidified his resolve to keep the full details of his time in Colombia from her. They’d bolster the defenses she was building. He didn’t want those images floating through her head.

  He needed a strategy.

  Obviously, coming at her physically was on the agenda. He wasn’t above using their sexual chemistry against her. But he needed more. Wanted to show her he could become a part of the life she’d built in Sweetheart—that he had no intention of taking that from her.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night, he’d decided the best way to do that was to make himself useful around Petals. Not only would it show her that resolve, but it would double the amount of time he could spend with her...and crowd into her personal space.

  Knowing he needed to be proactive about implementing his strategy, Evan was up early. He wandered out of the guest bedroom fully dressed and ready for the day to find her puttering around the kitchen, bleary-eyed and wrapped in a silky robe that did nothing to cover her body.

  “Morning,” he murmured, leaning against the doorframe and enjoying the view as she stretched up on tiptoe to reach for a cup on the top shelf of the cabinet.

  She let out a startled squeak, spinning and sending the coffee cup tumbling to the floor. Without even thinking, Evan shot forward and snatched it out of the air. Crouched in front of her, he enjoyed the perfect view of a creamy thigh. The spicy, sweet scent of her invaded his lungs, spreading through him with a burst of heat. Immediately, he was rock hard.

  Not good. At least, not right now.

  “You scared me,” she grumbled, her morning voice rough and full of accusation. Grabbing the cup from his hand, she turned back to the fancy coffeemaker on the counter.

  Evan rose slowly, enjoying the view just as much on the way up as he had at the bottom.

  “Sorry.” Although he really wasn’t.

  Keeping her back to him and her focus on the machine, she said, “You’re up awfully early. Big plans for the day?”

  “That depends.”

  She popped a pod of coffee into the machine and waited as it whirred and bubbled. “On what?”

  “You.”

  She finally shot him a look over her shoulder. Leaning opposite her, hands braced against the counter, he didn’t miss the way her gaze swept down his body, lingering for a moment on his chest, abs and thighs.

  Heat crawled up her skin. Evan fought the urge to smile in triumph.

  Yanking her gaze away, she asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I figured the least I could do was come into Petals with you and help out. Give you another set of hands.”

  Before he’d finished the sentence, she was already shaking her head. “I don’t need another set of hands. Especially ones that don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”

  “I’m a quick study, Tatum. Good for heavy lifting and getting...sweaty.” He dropped his voice, letting a touch of innuendo and promise leak into his words, and watched as her shoulders stiffened in reaction.

  He could see another protest coming, but cut it off. “I want to know what you do, Tatum. You know me. Either put me to work or spend the entire day with me loitering around the place.”

  “The sheriff’s a good friend of mine.”

  “I’m sure he is.”

  “I can have you thrown out.”

  “You could, but you won’t.”

  He pressed his body full-length against her back. Bending, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and breathed deeply, her scent now overpowered by the sharp tang of coffee.

  “Back away, Evan,” she said, no doubt her breathy words far from how she’d wanted them to sound.

  He didn’t touch her, not really. His hands settled against the counter, bracketing her hips. He could reach out and run his thumbs along her silk-covered skin, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the idea of the caress torment them both.

  “We both know you won’t throw me out, Tatum. You aren’t willing to make a fuss. No doubt the rumors about us are already flying through town. You won’t want to add to them by making a scene in the middle of Main Street. And, rest assured, I’d be more than happy to make a scene.”

  “I don’t like you very much,” she seethed.

  “Mmm,” he said, just shy of the sensitive spot on the back of her neck that drove her crazy. “Probably not, but I bet your body’s still slick and hot, begging you to forget everything and take what you want.”

  “When did you become an arrogant prick?”

  Backing away, Evan let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve always been an arrogant prick, sweetheart. That’s one of the things you love about me.”

  Her cup slammed onto the counter, spilling dark brown liquid in a spreading stain as she finally whirled to face him.

  Her palms shoved at his chest. “Back off, Evan. Now.”

  “I can’t, Tatum.” Brushing gentle fingers across her temple, he tangled them in her wild, m
essy morning hair. It was so soft, sliding like the finest silk through his fingers. “I won’t.”

  With a disgusted sigh, she jerked her head away from him, taking the waterfall of hair out of his reach. “If I let you tag along, you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself.”

  “That’s no fun.”

  “Maybe not, but this is my job, Evan. My livelihood. Petals is important to me and I won’t let anything disrupt that, including you.”

  Inclining his head, Evan said, “Understood. What’s important to you is important to me.”

  Blowing out a harsh breath, she said, “I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they remind me too much of the boy I fell in love with.”

  “I’m still that guy, Tatum.”

  She speared him with those dark emerald eyes, locking him into place and stealing his breath. A mixture of emotions swirled deep enough to suck him under and make his chest ache.

  “No, you aren’t. But I’m not that girl anymore, either, so...”

  With a shrug, she snagged her coffee and walked out of the kitchen.

  Evan simply watched her leave. He couldn’t very well follow her, even if every instinct in his head was screaming at him to do it.

  How could he feel as though he’d taken one step forward by gaining entrance to Petals and still managed to lose ground?

  * * *

  SHE KNEW IT was a bad idea, but short of making an ugly scene, Evan was right, she didn’t have much choice but to let him in.

  She wasn’t worried about him getting underfoot or slowing her down. Tatum had plenty of experience working in high-pressure environments, the skills gained working for a Fortune 500 company smoothly transferring to owning a small business of her own.

  It was more the spectacle he provided.

  She’d already anticipated the “March of the Town” as people dropped by to see if she’d spill any juicy tidbits about her life, knowing she wasn’t the type to gossip about others, let alone herself.

  With a twisted smile and a few well-placed sarcastic comments, she could have handled the gossipers. What she couldn’t control was Evan.

  Who, while offering to run the counter, was perfectly placed to charm the entire damn town.

  By midafternoon they had a steady stream of customers, half of them citizens who’d never purchased a damn thing from her before today. At least her bank account would be grateful for the influx of sales.

  Though she wondered if the headache pounding relentlessly behind her temples was worth it.

  “Evan Huntley, Tatum’s husband.”

  The first time she’d heard him introduce himself to Mavis Reynolds, an overly enthusiastic and nosy seventy-three-year-old member of the Sweetheart Bridge Club, she’d nearly swallowed her tongue.

  “Husband? I didn’t think she was married.”

  She’d heard at least twenty versions of this same conversation. And had to admit to reluctant admiration for the way Evan deflected every single one of the questions tossed his way.

  “We’ve been separated for several years due to my job. But I’m here now and we’re trying to work everything out.” Somehow, he managed to make it sound as if he was simultaneously wholly responsible for whatever they were “working out,” and completely contrite and ready to grovel at her feet.

  The bastard. By midmorning he had the blue-haired set eating out of his palm.

  Unfortunately, his current conversation had taken an unexpected turn.

  A woman Tatum knew mostly by sight as a lawyer in town made a sound that was difficult to interpret. She was dressed in a smart business suit and tasteful black heels. Her hair fell into a perfectly sleek bob that hit precisely at her chin.

  “Well, that’s a relief. And explains why she never dated. You know, there were rumors around town that she played for the other team.”

  The woman, Tatum thought her name was Samantha, gave her a twisted, apologetic smile. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  No, of course not.

  Evan flashed her a knowing smirk, which caused a bolt of irritation to lance through her. She was intimately familiar with that expression. It meant he was about to do or say something he knew would get him in trouble...and, yet, he was going to do whatever it was anyway.

  So frustrating.

  “Trust me, she’s definitely into men. A damn siren in bed.”

  Samantha shrugged, not raising an eyebrow at the personal information Evan let hang in the air. Her personal information. Yep, she was going to kill him.

  “If you say so. There are plenty of other rumors flying around town now.”

  Evan leaned forward across the counter separating them like he was settling in for a good secret. “Really? Like what?”

  “Oh, that you guys had a green card marriage.”

  He laughed, the smoky, seductive sound scraping down her spine. “Nope, we’re both Detroit born and bred.”

  “Well,” Samantha reached into the designer purse slung over her shoulder. “Either way, should you need a good divorce attorney, give me a call.”

  Divorce attorney, her ass. The look Samantha gave Evan left little question that she wanted to do a hell of a lot more than file a petition with the court for him.

  The bitch had just hit on her husband. In front of her. Obviously, there was a reason she hadn’t gotten to know Samantha well in the last two years.

  Tatum’s hands trembled from an unexpected roll of anger and jealousy. She fought the urge to reach across the counter and shake some sense into the predatory woman. Tatum had never been the kind for physical violence, no matter the situation or provocation. Just one more reason letting Evan back into her life was a bad idea. She did not like her reaction to Samantha’s flirting, but unfortunately she couldn’t seem to curb it.

  The attorney grabbed the bundle of red roses she’d purchased—how unoriginal—and walked out the door.

  Tatum’s teeth ground together at the tinkling bell that chimed on Samantha’s exit. Her gaze stayed glued to the spot where the woman had disappeared, a red haze washing across everything.

  No, she was not going to tear out onto the sidewalk after her.

  A soft chuckle finally broke through the grip of her rage. Tatum looked up to find Evan standing in front of her, staring down at her.

  His eyes, more green than brown today and perfectly matching the T-shirt pulled tight across his massive chest, twinkled at her.

  “Breathe, Tatum. And for God’s sake, unclench your teeth before you break one.”

  She did as he suggested, only realizing the relentless ache stampeding through her jaw when she finally let it go.

  “Not funny,” she said.

  “A little funny,” he countered. “And a lot encouraging.”

  The rhythmic pounding in her head increased. Shit.

  “My reaction has nothing to do with you. She’s a bitch, plain and simple. What kind of woman hits on a married man in front of his wife?”

  “A divorce lawyer.”

  “Apparently.”

  “I don’t care about her. She’s unimportant.”

  Sure, to him she was unimportant. Tatum was still fighting the need to draw blood. Which only pissed her off more. She shouldn’t be feeling so...territorial over Evan.

  But she did. Her chest tightened at the thought of him touching Samantha, popping the buttons on that damn suit and burying himself between her thighs.

  Evan scratched his head. “What really interests me is the statement she made.”

  “Oh, yeah? Which one? The one where she suggested I was a lesbian or slid her business card to you implying you needed a divorce attorney?”

  “The one where she said you haven’t dated anyone in town.”

  She reeled back, shocked at his words. “I told you I wasn’t seeing anyone.”

  “Present tense. You never said anything about not dating anyone. There’s a difference.”

&
nbsp; Tatum gawked at him for several seconds before slamming her mouth shut. She watched in fascination as pain, regret and hope all flitted across his face.

  “I’d understand, you know,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you’d been with someone else.” His words were gentle, no doubt meant to soothe her. Instead, they ignited the anger that was still so close to the surface.

  “You’re damn right you wouldn’t blame me.”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with the motion. “I told myself I wasn’t going to ask, that I didn’t have the right. But...I think I need to know so I can stop imagining every man who comes through the door has had his hands on you and is just here as an excuse to get another taste.”

  “You’ve been...” Only a few men had come into the store today, probably the few customers who were really shopping for flowers and not gossip. But now that she thought about it, Evan had been much cooler with the men than the women.

  And that was strange. He’d never lacked for charm, that was for sure. But he spent most of his time with men. Guy’s guys who shot shit and crawled around in the dirt. Went to strip clubs and got drunk. He’d never had a problem relating to other men.

  She could lie to him. Part of her was ashamed to even entertain the thought. How pathetic did it make her look to admit she’d spent the last three years in a physical deep freeze because no man could compare to him? Not to mention that admitting the truth would only increase his resolve...and ego.

  But she couldn’t do it. Something inside wouldn’t let her lie about this.

  “No, I haven’t been with anyone.”

  She half expected him to gloat. Or let some quip fly.

  Instead, he cupped her shoulders and pulled her hard against his body. His mouth found hers, possessive, reverent, plunging them both into the deep end. Her brain disengaged, shutting off and leaving only instinct and response.

  She clung to him, sinking into the sensations only he’d ever been able to make her feel. After several moments, he pulled back, softening and shifting from sizzle to simmer. Although her brain couldn’t quite catch up.