by Lisa Ruff
Pushing her back against the wall, Evan’s hands rushed over her. Anna’s breath came in short gasps that had nothing to do with the weight of him and everything to do with the rough palms shaping her breasts, the hard fingers sliding her skirt up her thighs. He wanted her, just as much as she wanted him. All the years of suppressed passion rose to meet this hunger eagerly. It had been a mistake to think that she could resist it—him—now after so long. When he wrenched her coat over her shoulders, she responded by dragging at his suit jacket. A button popped to the floor as she fought clumsily to open his shirt.
All the fantasies she had ever had about this man came rushing in to swamp her senses and make them greedy for every touch, taste and torment: the warm skin under her palms, the sweet pressure of his lips on hers, the slow friction of his body to hers. Her heart felt light and, for a moment, she wanted to laugh. Why had she waited so long?
In seconds his shirt and tie were gone. She didn’t know where they went or how they came off. She cared only that she had free rein of his hard, muscular chest. Her forays were interrupted when Evan unzipped the back of her dress and drew the fabric down, trapping her arms. He kissed his way down her throat to her breast, licking and biting gently as he went, turning her into a writhing bundle of need. Anna tried to wrest her hands free of her dress, but Evan held her captive.
Peeling back the lace of her bra, he took the tip of first one, then the other breast in his mouth. Anna’s knees weakened as an arrow of pleasure darted right to her core. She forgot about freedom in the wash of heat that flushed her skin. When he pulled her dress down farther and pushed it to the floor, she let it slide away without thought.
“God, you are beautiful,” he said in a rasp.
Evan’s eyes, darkened to jade now, glowed as he watched his hand cup a breast, smooth his fingers down her stomach to toy with the lacy edge of her underwear. She had no compunction about standing in front of him dressed only in bra, panties and thigh-high stockings. Instead, she reveled in his obvious desire. She had wanted him to look at her—to see her—for so long. Finally, she had his undivided attention. The experience was far more glorious and wonderful than she had ever imagined.
At last, unable to stay quiescent any longer, she reached out and ran her palms up his arms. His eyes narrowed, hands sliding around her waist and stroking her back. Arms encircling his neck, Anna rose on tiptoe, pressing herself to him. The hard ridge of his erection throbbed against the juncture of her thighs, the wool of his trousers scratching her softer skin. Holding his eyes with hers, Anna swept her tongue over his lower lip in a soft, hot caress.
“Make love to me, Evan,” she whispered against his mouth.
His arms slowly tightened around her, crushing her to his body. He deepened the kiss, sending her head spinning again. The dizziness intensified as she felt herself lifted up in his arms. Cradling her against his chest, Evan strode down the hall to her bedroom, leaving their clothes piled together on the wood floor.
Anna’s heart beat with wild anticipation. There was no turning back now, for either of them. She was getting her wish. Finally, after all these years. Dreams did come true, she knew. You just had to wait for them—in this case, a very long time.
FIVE HOURS LATER, EVAN walked into his hotel room, stripped off his jacket and flung it across the room. Stalking to the window and the claustrophobic view of the office building across the street, he pressed the heels of his hands into the mullion. Leaning forward, he sucked in a deep breath before letting it out slowly.
What the hell had he done?
Staring out at the darkened offices, Evan’s mind and body filled with Anna Berzani: her laughing eyes and soft, sweet lips; the silken swirl of her hair that begged to be touched; the slight, sleek length of her body that pressed so pliantly to his; the taste of her mouth and every satin inch of her skin. Closing his eyelids tightly, he tried to banish the sensations, but against his will, they only grew more palpable, more complete.
With a muffled growl, he pushed away from the window and went to the minibar. Grabbing one of the miniature bottles of Scotch, he twisted off the cap and downed it in one fiery gulp. The liquor burned down to his belly, but did little to quench the fire roiling in his blood. He laughed at the tiny bottle, a short, bitter burst of sound that echoed in the barren hotel room. It would take a whole lot more alcohol to drown the memories of this night.
He set the bottle down on the desk and dropped to sit on the bed with a sigh of defeat. Propping his elbows on his knees, he put his head in his hands. His eyes traced a pattern in the nap of the carpet, but it led to no solutions. Rubbing his hands over his face, he pressed fingertips into his eye sockets until spots of color danced behind his lids, sparkling red exactly like Anna’s bright hair. He released the pressure in an instant.
He could only blame himself for these complications. He had been too cocky: in the cab, he had had the brilliant idea that if he took her home, he might have one last shot at convincing her. When she turned to him in the dim light of her apartment, he had known it was a mistake. Her kiss had startled him, thrown him off balance, so much so that kissing her back had been inevitable. If only she hadn’t tasted so sweet, if her eyes hadn’t been filled with such desire. He had tried to retreat, but then she had looked so unhappy and he couldn’t resist kissing her again—
He rose to his feet in an impatient surge. It was done. Over. As much as he might want to, he couldn’t undo it. Part of him knew he wouldn’t undo it, that this was the most pleasurable night of love he had ever experienced. He looked at the clock: 3:06 a.m. In four hours, he would be on a jet flying east. He wished he didn’t have to wait that long.
Evan stripped off his clothes, noticing the missing button from his shirt and Anna’s faint scent lingering on his skin. He stepped into the shower and let the water rinse off the memories as he soaped his body and scrubbed. Tonight, he had violated his creed, the one his father had taught him by deed if not by word: love a woman, yes, but never get attached to one and certainly don’t let one get attached to you. Less than an hour from her bed, Evan still felt himself tangled in Anna Berzani’s arms.
Shutting off the water, he grabbed a towel. What would the old man do if he were in Evan’s situation? Probably pretend tonight never happened. Maybe he should do the same. It wouldn’t be hard; the next time he saw Anna would be months from now, maybe even years. He closed his eyes, consoled by the idea, and stretched out in bed. If he was lucky, he could get a couple of hours’ sleep.
But sleep eluded him completely. He lay wide-awake in the darkness until the sharp drone of the alarm sounded from the bedside table. He had no luck sleeping on the plane, either, as it lurched and rolled through the summer storms sweeping the country. The plane landed at Baltimore-Washington International without a hitch, but traffic was jammed on the roads outbound. At 5:50 p.m., Evan finally walked into the Laughing Gull, the neighborhood hangout on the banks of Crab Creek, feeling tired, edgy and irritable.
The older man behind the bar looked up from the sports page. “Evan! You look like hell. What’s the matter?”
“Hey, George. I had to take a trip out of town. What’d I miss?”
“Not much. Orioles lost another one to Tampa. Get you a beer?”
“Yeah. You still have that summer ale on tap?”
“Sure. Two more kegs. Just for you and the Berzani brothers.”
As George was pulling the pint from a tap, Ian Berzani walked into the bar. He greeted his father-in-law and shook Evan’s hand. “I got Patty’s text about half an hour ago. What’s up?”
“We need to revise our strategy. I’ll fill you in when Patrick gets here.”
“The usual, Ian?” George asked.
“Yeah, thanks, George.”
“Might as well pour one for Patrick, too,” Evan said. “He should be here any minute.”
The older man plucked more glasses from the rack and in a moment slid three beers across the bar. Patrick pushed through the door just
as Ian picked up two of the pints.
“You’re a mind reader,” Patrick said as he took the beer from his brother’s hand.
“Like yours is so difficult to read,” Evan said with a snort.
“Better than a trip through that cesspool between your ears, McKenzie,” Patrick retorted with a grin.
“At least it’d be educational.”
“That’s not what some would call it.”
“Come on, gentlemen,” Ian interrupted, enforcing the peace as usual. “Drink first, fight later. Let’s grab a table.”
George went back to his sports scores. Evan led the way across the room to a table next to the windows. The view from there was spectacular, looking out onto Crab Creek with no obstructions. Better still, just across from the bar, the creek took a bend and opened up to the Chesapeake Bay itself. Though he had seen it hundreds of times, Evan appreciated the sight even more after being away. Ian and Patrick sat down across from him.
“So, what’s this powwow about?” Ian asked, sipping his beer.
“Evan crashed and burned, so we need your help,” Patrick said. “Which reminds me—pay up, McKenzie.” He held out an open palm in Evan’s direction.
“What makes you think I choked?” Evan glared at his friend, not wanting to admit the truth.
“If Anna had agreed, I’d know it by now.”
“What are you talking about?” Ian narrowed his eyes and shifted his glance between the two of them. “What did you guys do this time?”
Evan ignored the question and dug out his money clip to peel off some bills. “I was this close,” he said, tossing the money at Patrick. “It was the thought of working with you that spooked her.”
“I’ll bet it was you that had her running scared,” Patrick said as he scooped up the money and made a show of counting the five twenties. “Looks like I’m buying, boys.”
“Wait a minute,” Ian said slowly. “You didn’t actually go to San Francisco and see Anna did you?”
“What better way to get her aboard?” Patrick asked his brother. He picked up his glass and drank. “McKenzie went. After all, he’s the big deal guy.”
“That’s Master Deal-maker,” Evan said, automatically correcting him.
“You two must be time-sharing a brain again,” Ian said with a sigh. “What made you think Anna would listen to him? She despises Evan.”
“She does not,” Evan said irritably, remembering just how true that had been, all the while wishing Ian was right.
“Don’t kid yourself, McKenzie,” Patrick countered. “You two have never had a civil conversation.”
“We’ve had at least one. Over dinner last night,” Evan said defensively.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re back to square one and—” A phone rang, cutting Patrick off. It was his. He dug it out of his shirt pocket. When he checked the screen, his eyebrows rose and he flipped it open. “Hey, Annie. I was just thinking of you. How’s my little prodigal sister?”
“Shit.” Evan slumped in his seat. Anna wasn’t crazy enough to say anything about last night, was she? He listened, but from the side of the conversation Evan could overhear, Patrick seemed to be having the standard brotherly chat with his sister. He took a deep drink of his beer and looked out the windows to the boats on the water in the distance, sails interspersed with the occasional waterman pulling crab traps.
“You’re kidding!” Patrick suddenly exclaimed.
He looked right at Evan, his expression one of astonished glee.
Evan cringed in anticipation and slumped farther in his chair.
“I mean, wow! Great! When will you—okay I’ll tell them. And hey, Annie? Thanks.” Patrick closed his phone and grinned at Evan. “She’s going to do it.”
“What? No! But she said—” Evan stopped himself abruptly. He straightened in his chair, one hand wrapped tightly around his glass. His stomach was clenched and his throat dry. He wasn’t sure which felt stronger: panic or exhilaration. Why had she changed her mind?
“What do you mean ‘what?’” Patrick prompted. “Now you sound like you don’t want her to do it.”
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Is she coming here?”
“Two weeks, maybe three, she has to arrange her schedule.”
Evan swirled the beer in his glass around and around, mimicking the whirling in his brain. He would see Anna sooner than expected. What was he supposed to do? How could he pretend last night never happened? Especially when it was all he could think about. He would have to, though. What other choice did he have?
Patrick shook his head in disbelief. “I guess you are the master deal-maker after all.”
“Damn straight.” Evan pushed the unease to the back of his mind. He would deal with Anna when the time came; there was no point in worrying about it now. Besides, she might want to forget it as much as he did. And he would forget it. He just needed a little time and a good night’s sleep. He stuck out his hand and motioned for Patrick to hand over the money. His friend scowled and dug the bills out of his pocket.
The grimace on Patrick’s face as he returned the twenties, then added another hundred dollars from his own wallet, was priceless. Ian grinned as he watched, then laughed.
“There goes the new race-watch I was going to buy myself,” Patrick said with a grumble.
Evan wanted to laugh, too, but he couldn’t. Despite having won the bet, he had nothing to be happy about. The final reckoning was coming, and no amount of money would cover the bill.
Chapter Four
Anna kept her eyes closed as she sipped a tepid ginger ale. The fizzy liquid hit the bottom of her stomach and sloshed around uncomfortably. After a few moments, it decided to stay put. She sighed in relief, but didn’t take another drink. She didn’t trust her stomach right now.
She hated the fact that she got motion sick. It was an irritating, embarrassing malady. The illness didn’t even occur every time she was in a car, boat or airplane, which made it all the more annoying. It randomly hit when she was least expecting it and often when she could do the least about it. Luckily, the airplane was well stocked with ginger ale for her and other sufferers. Leaning her head back, she willed the nausea roiling in the pit of her stomach to subside.
As she sat in silent misery, it occurred to her that this wasn’t ordinary motion sickness. The queasiness had started long before the plane left the ground—several days ago, in fact. This morning, she had thrown up before she had even gotten on the plane. There was a simple answer, but Anna refused to consider it. There was no way it could be true. Despite her stubbornness, the reasoning crept back to plague her all during the long flight. This wasn’t motion sickness at all, her subconscious whispered. This was Evan- sickness. He was the reason she felt this way. Or, rather, the prospect of seeing him was.
Anna’s eyes popped open and she stared at the seat-back in front of her for a minute, before closing them again. It couldn’t be true; she wouldn’t let it be. But she couldn’t deny that the thought of meeting Evan again had her guts strung tighter than a drum. Three weeks, she thought as she let her head fall back against the rest. Three weeks and…nothing.
The morning after her night with Evan, Anna awoke, surprised to find herself alone. She had looked at the clock—5:17—then pulled on a robe and gone to the living room. Evan’s clothes were gone. Her dress and coat were neatly draped over the back of a chair. The roses he had brought were a bright spark in the dim quiet, but they were the only sign Evan had been there at all. Staring at them, Anna had wrapped her arms around herself, warding off a sudden chill.
She had sat on the sofa, alone, curling her legs under herself. If it hadn’t been for the draped clothes and flowers, she could almost believe the previous night had never happened. But it had. The soft ache in her body, the languor in her limbs, told the story more clearly than words or memories. So where had Evan gone? And why had he left without waking her? The possible answers to those questions spread an anxious tension through her body. She had thrust her do
ubts away. No one could fake the desire he had shown over and over again.
Now, three weeks later, sitting on a jet winging its way east, Anna wasn’t so certain. With so many modern ways to communicate, Evan had chosen none: no phone call, no e-mail, no text, no fax, no Tweet. Not even a secondhand message via one of her brothers or—God forbid—her mother. It really was as if the night hadn’t happened. Reaching in the pocket of her skirt, Anna pulled out a small white button. It was from a man’s shirt and, since the roses had long since faded and died, the only proof she had that Evan had been in her apartment—in her bed.
When she had hurried out the door to work that dismal day, the button had skittered away from the toe of her shoe. Retrieving it, she had clenched the disk in her hand until it left a deep imprint in her palm. Anna had carried it with her since, a talisman, a reminder of a dream come true that had vanished like smoke.
Anna sighed and sipped more of the ginger ale. The liquid settled better. She risked eating a pretzel, the salt sharp on her tongue. In a few short hours, she would see Evan and her questions would be answered. Until then, she had to think positive thoughts. She drank the last of her soda and took a deep breath.
The flight attendant announced their final descent into BWI Airport. A few bumpy minutes later, the jet was taxiing to the gate. When the seat-belt sign turned off, Anna collected her belongings, grabbed her suitcase from the overhead bin and joined the hordes bustling through the terminal. She dodged a man and a woman who had stopped to look at the overhead display of arrivals and departures. A few steps on, she wove around a man in a Stetson ambling along with a cell phone pressed to his ear.
Anna paid no attention to the milling crowd of people waiting just beyond the security checkpoint. With no bags to collect, she navigated directly to the car rental counter. Hopefully there wouldn’t be a bottleneck there. Her meeting in Crab Creek was scheduled for one o’clock. She was just about to step on the escalator, when a hand grabbed her arm.
