by Maggie Cox
Rowan stared at the starkly obstinate expression crossing his handsome face, her glance drifting helplessly over his hard, lean biceps exposed by his black T-shirt, feeling the impact of what had just occurred between them anew. Grief and shock had driven her into Evan’s arms, but her own free will and desire had kept her there. Did he regret it? Was he right this minute asking himself what had possessed him to make love to her like that? Passionately and without constraint, as if they were really lovers and not just reluctant neighbours who tolerated each other’s company now and then? Her stomach roiled at the idea he would harbour regret. Right now she needed to feel wanted…needed, even if it was only in the most basic way. Greg had violated her heart with his unthinkable behaviour. It was bad enough she’d still been in the throes of grief at his untimely death, and now she had to deal with the reality of his betrayal too. A wave of utter despair washed over her.
Evan saw her face whiten suddenly and glimpsed the flash of panic in her wounded eyes. That overwhelming feeling of wanting to protect her that he’d tried so hard not to own rolled through him again. About to walk towards her, he checked himself, stopped, then dropped his hands to his hips. What the hell was the matter with him? He’d sworn to himself that after Rebecca he would avoid involvement with another woman. What was happening to him that he could so easily forget that vow when he was in Rowan Hawkins’ company? He’d never, ever taken a woman so recklessly or so passionately before. And neither had desire ever overtaken him so urgently—so that all his senses were completely drowned in the raw, elemental need to make her his own, his mind and body driven by the mystifying, primal rhythm of some ancient carnal drumbeat.
‘Please don’t feel obligated to do anything else for me,’ she told him now, her hands rubbing her arms as if to stimulate some much-needed warmth. ‘I’ll be fine here, honest. God knows, I’ve got plenty to occupy me. I won’t—won’t be idle.’
‘Obligated?’ His tone was rough with disbelief. ‘You think what happened between us happened because I felt obligated?’
‘I don’t know.’ As she shook her head slowly from side to side, Rowan’s hurt glance was forlorn. ‘I don’t know anything any more, if you want to know the truth. I’m certainly not a good judge of character, so how would I know what your motives are?’
‘Get your sweater. I’ll wait outside.’ His jaw uncompromisingly hard, Evan swept past her out the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘I’LL help you do up the house,’ he offered as they walked along the wide, deserted beach. It took a couple of moments for his words to permeate the thick soup-like fog in her brain. When they did, Rowan stole a glance at his determined profile beside her, her heart bumping against her ribs when it struck her yet again how handsome he was, how indomitably male. A sudden upsurge of need pulsed through her, almost making her stumble. Wrapping her arms around her chest as if to deny it, she winced as a sharp gust of sea air made her eyes sting.
‘You don’t have to do that.’
‘I can do anything I damn well please.’ His voice brooked no argument and almost made Rowan cry, because she knew despite his brusque tone he meant well. He was hurting too, she made herself remember. Hurting because the woman he’d loved had thrown that love right back in his face with cruel disregard for his feelings.
‘You came down here for a rest…a—a holiday…’ Her voice trailed off in the sound of the waves rushing against the shore and she deliberately turned her face away. She could almost sense the scowl on Evan’s face. Did it make him feel less of a man somehow if he admitted to normal human requirements like needing rest when you were tired? Trouble was, he was such a fine physical specimen. She guessed he probably drove himself too hard to keep things that way.
‘We’ll get the front room sorted out first. You need somewhere comfortable to relax, so that’s got to be a priority. You picked out colours and stuff like that yet?’
‘I have. I thought—I thought lilac for the walls and soft mauves for the panelling and skirting.’ Rowan tried to swallow over the aching lump that was suddenly paralysing her throat. All of this she had been going to do with Greg. Now she didn’t even have the consolation of knowing that he’d really wanted any of it in the first place. Had he planned on leaving her one day for the mother of his child in Turkey? Greg had been a father. Something he’d told her he wanted to put off until they were both a little more settled…until he’d worked more normal hours…even though Rowan had been ready to have a child for a long time. All of a sudden, fat tears were spilling from her eyes and tracking down her cheeks and she stopped walking and turned her face out to sea, blinking desperately to force back emotion.
Evan’s chest tightened. She looked so lost standing there, her soft brown hair blowing around her pretty face, her slender shoulders hunched. He began to think that maybe he should stay well clear, because what did he know about comforting anybody? It didn’t help that when he was around her all he seemed to be able to think about was making love to her, losing himself in her sweetly seductive heat as her soft brown eyes beckoned him in from the cold, reminding him to be a little more human again. His fists clenched down by his sides.
‘Want to go back?’ he asked gruffly.
‘No,’ she hiccuped then shook her head.
‘Want me to hold you?’
When she didn’t reply, Evan moved slowly up behind her and urged her back against his chest. With his arms wrapped round her, her scent making him ache for her anew and her warmth seeping into all the cold places in his body, he sensed her grow less rigid and become more relaxed as she leant against him.
‘Thank you, Evan,’ she whispered softly.
A rush of something suspiciously warm crowding his chest, Evan rested his chin on the top of her head and simply held her. Right then, he didn’t trust himself to say anything.
They’d been painting companionably side by side for a couple of hours now, the radio playing softly from the kitchen, the pervading aroma of new paint filling their nostrils, and practically every minute for Evan had been pure, sweet torture. It stunned him, the strength of this new need in him to hold her in his arms, to protect her, to maybe whisper promises that he knew he couldn’t keep. Turning his head to regard her now, he observed the fierce concentration on her lovely profile as she stroked the paintbrush up, down, across the wall, as if the simple, repetitive actions were acting like some sort of buffer, keeping the emotions that threatened to choke her at bay.
‘You OK?’ he asked, surprising himself with the anxiety threading through his voice.
‘I’m fine.’ Turning briefly, she rewarded him with a small, fleeting smile that tore at Evan’s heart. He knew it was a lie. He knew she felt as if her insides had been ripped out then crudely reassembled to give the appearance of a heart, lungs, organs functioning normally. For two days now she’d been answering his carefully worded enquiries like someone in a trance—someone who’d decided that perhaps life didn’t have as much to offer as she’d once believed, after all. His own concerns about his return to fitness, about what he planned to do when he went back to work, about his future—all faded almost into insignificance in the light of what had happened to Rowan. But, other than helping her to decorate the cottage, Evan knew there wasn’t much he could offer apart from his friendship. He didn’t dare…not when he knew that a more intimate relationship between them could only bring them both more heartache and sorrow.
‘Shall I make some tea?’ she offered quietly, her paintbrush momentarily stilled.
‘It’s probably as good a time as any to take a break,’ he agreed, laying down his brush on top of the paint tin. He watched Rowan do the same, then stand up and flex her shoulders a little to ease some of the strain that had gathered there.
‘Want me to give you a massage?’
‘No!’ The look in her eyes was completely panicked, and Evan felt his stomach churn as if he had a lead weight inside it. ‘I mean…thanks for offering but I—I’m fine, really.’
> ‘You going to spend the next few days we’re together pretending that we didn’t make love?’ he asked bluntly.
Rowan considered the question with heart-pounding trepidation. The way he’d phrased it had been so apt, so true to what she actually had intended, that for a moment she wondered if he could somehow read her mind.
‘Of course not! I just—I just…’ She glanced down at her paint-splattered fingernails and made a futile attempt to try and scrape some of it off.
‘You just want to be clear that I know it isn’t going to happen again.’
If he knew how much she wanted him…if he even guessed… But Rowan knew nothing good could come of such an affair. They’d both been through the mill in their relationships, so why tempt fate? What they had now was good, wasn’t it? They’d become friends, despite Evan’s initial hostility, and that was something real and positive to hold on to. Much better than a hot sexual fling that would fill them with regret when it ended and make it forever awkward for them to be neighbours when Evan next returned to the cottage.
‘I think it’s for the best, don’t you?’ Without waiting for his answer Rowan quickly headed for the kitchen, her spine prickling with heat because she knew that he watched her go.
Cursing ripely under his breath, Evan threw down the rag that he’d wiped his hands on and let himself out of the front door for some fresh air. He breathed deeply as he stood and surveyed the surrounding scenery with little pleasure. For once the backdrop of mountains and rolling green hills failed to bring any kind of ease to his soul. Mountains just reminded him of the climb he’d had to get to the top, and what for? At the end of the day success had been a hollow victory, because who gave a damn except him? And look at the toll it had exacted—he’d almost lost his life.
His mouth a tight, grim line, he forced himself to breathe out the tension that seemed to hold his chest in a vice. Just where the hell was he heading? Was he forever destined to carry this feeling around inside him that something fundamental was missing from his life? He’d once thought that making his business into a success would bring him all the satisfaction he needed, but now he knew differently. If only he could be just as certain about what exactly it was that was missing, he might be able to move towards some kind of goal. He needed aims, direction in life. He’d always been driven—even as a little kid.
‘Don’t be so competitive,’ his mother had often berated him when he’d turn some innocent game with his friends into some kind of war to come out on top. ‘Let the other kids have a chance.’ Well…having drive was one thing. Damn near killing yourself because you pigheadedly refused to see that you were driving yourself into an early grave was another thing entirely.
Frustrated and angry in equal measures, Evan yawned and stretched, raising his arms high, his T-shirt riding up past his waist as Rowan came out behind him. She gawked at the unexpected glimpse of smooth-toned flesh, hotly reminded of the feel of that same flesh against hers as he’d made love to her.
‘Do you want to come in for your tea?’ She shivered as she asked, not from the cold but from the impact of the intense green blaze emanating from Evan’s eyes as he turned. Letting his hands drop to his sides, he simply stood and looked at her.
‘What?’ Nervously she licked her lips.
‘Let’s go somewhere.’
Her brown eyes widened. ‘Where?’
‘Anywhere. We can just drive until we feel like stopping, find a nice hotel, have dinner, then stay the night.’
‘I—I can’t.’
His eyes darkened perceptibly. ‘Can’t or won’t? I don’t care what you say, Rowan, I’m not going to let you hang around here and brood. Go on. Pack something pretty to wear and we’ll get going.’
‘You think that will solve anything?’ The idea of going with him was terrifying, but exhilarating too, in spite of the slough of despond she had fallen into since finding out that Greg had betrayed her. Rowan’s heart was pumping so crazily against her ribs that she felt almost faint.
Evan grabbed her suddenly and kissed her hard on the mouth. His heat and command chastened her. Just as she sensed herself begin to melt, he abruptly released her and headed down the path with that long-legged stride of his towards the gate. ‘Don’t be any longer than half an hour!’ he called over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be in the car, waiting.’
They’d stopped somewhere off the beaten track at a cosy little pub with a beamed and weathered interior and rustic dark wooden floors that creaked when walked upon. There was no fire blazing in the huge bricked fireplace, instead there was a pretty arrangement of dried flowers and grasses, and apart from Rowan and Evan the only inhabitants appeared to be two elderly gentlemen playing dominoes, and a nicely dressed middle-aged couple obviously out for the evening. Despite her reservations at accepting Evan’s invitation to ‘find a nice hotel, have dinner then stay the night’, with all the worrying implications that provoked, Rowan was determined to shake off her doubt and melancholy and at least make an attempt to enjoy herself.
‘Thanks.’ As she watched Evan return from the bar with their drinks, then settle himself on the wooden stool opposite her at the table, Rowan’s smile was warm and automatic. The swift onrush of pleasure it provoked in his belly made Evan almost spill his pint of ale.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘I’ve never been here before, have you?’ Glancing around at the dated sepia-toned photographs of the building in bygone days, that decorated the walls, Rowan was reassured by the sense of history and permanence that it evoked. Her own personal history had been dramatically impacted in a way she’d never expected, and permanence of any kind was just a faded dream she’d once had. There’d be no ‘permanent’ relationship in her future now, because how could she ever give her trust to anyone again? At the same time it struck her that because of circumstances she’d been forced to adopt the same cynical attitude to relationships that Evan had, and the thought pierced her deeply, almost bringing tears to her eyes.
‘I’ve been here a couple of times for Sunday lunch.’ Grinning, Evan placed his beer glass carefully down on the cork mat. ‘They do the best treacle sponge and custard you could hope to find anywhere.’
‘How is it that such a physically fit specimen as yourself can indulge in such calorie-laden puddings and still look so good?’
To Rowan’s surprise, Evan’s grin quickly faded, to be replaced by a far more sobering expression. ‘Don’t always believe in the packaging,’ he commented. ‘I might have been physically fit once upon a time, but I’m not any more.’
‘I don’t believe that for a second.’
‘Why the hell would I lie about it?’
She flinched at the sudden aggression in his tone. Her dark eyes narrowing, Rowan’s gaze swept across his handsome, absorbed features and she knew there was something about his life that he wasn’t willing to share with her…something that he felt shamed him somehow.
‘So…when did you develop this passion you have for puddings?’ Deliberately keeping her tone light, she took a sip of her dry white wine, shivering as it slid down her throat.
‘Don’t.’
‘Don’t what?’ Her chest suddenly tight, Rowan stared.
‘Don’t pretend it’s OK that sometimes I’m like a bear with a sore head but really I’m a nice guy underneath. I’m not. This is as good as it gets, Rowan, so don’t get your hopes up.’
Heat seemed to pour into her body from all directions. He was crazy if he thought for even one second that she nursed hopes about a relationship with him! Knowing what she’d just discovered about her husband’s infidelity, how could he even imagine she would even want another relationship? Let alone one with him?
‘Right now I don’t have any hopes of any kind, for your information, because all I’m doing is trying to get through each day intact. So please don’t think that I—that I—’ She broke off when she saw his mouth settle into a hard, grim line.
‘You’re a nice woman, Rowan. When enough time has elap
sed, and you’ve started to heal, trust me, there’ll be a queue of guys a mile long outside your door waiting to ask you out. You weren’t meant to stay single for long, angel. And you’ve too much goodness in you not to want to share it with someone special.’
‘I don’t want another relationship. Not now, not ever! What makes you think you have the exclusive right to be so cynical? You’re not the only one who was betrayed. If I want to stay alone for the rest of my life then that’s my business, and you’ve no right to imagine you know what’s best for me when you clearly don’t!’
Evan weathered the storm. He saw her slender shoulders lift, then fall, and her liquid dark eyes shimmer with unshed tears. The need to apologise and protect rose strongly in him again but this time he was ready for it. He couldn’t afford to give her any more than he was doing already and he had to make sure she knew that. Very soon he’d be back at work, and she would have to get on with her life without him around to help her pick up the pieces. Stark but true.
‘I would never assume to know what was best for anyone, let alone someone who’s just been hurt as badly as you, but cynicism just isn’t in your make-up, Rowan. Don’t make the mistake of adopting it because somehow you think it might help protect you. God only knows what made your husband do what he did, but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen again. I think deep down you know that.’
‘And what about you?’
‘Me?’ He shrugged those big, strong shoulders and gave her a brief smile. ‘I have my work. That’s the most important thing in my life.’
She wanted to call him a liar, because everyone needed someone, didn’t they? But surprise kept her silent, because her own question bore out the truth of what Evan had said earlier. It just wasn’t in her make-up to be so cynical. She’d lost both her parents in her teens and had had to make her own way by getting a job and supporting herself right up until she met Greg, so Rowan knew what it was like to be alone and she didn’t recommend it. But right now she was too downhearted to pursue this conversation much further.
