by Maggie Cox
He fought back the need to curse out loud, because what she’d said was perfectly true. Still, the need to hold her, to love her for even just a little while, was so overwhelming that Evan had to physically put some distance between them so he could think straight.
‘So…we go back to being not so friendly neighbours?’ The fury in his voice left Rowan in no small doubt as to what he thought about that suggestion.
Smoothing her palms down her long silk robe, she thought she could use some divine guidance right now, because all of a sudden her need to be in his arms and forget about the wisdom of being intimate with him was tearing her up inside.
‘You’re going back to London soon anyway. You’ll immerse yourself in your work…your “life,” as I recall…and you’ll forget all about me. When you next visit for a holiday maybe I’ll bake you one of my pies specially, and we can have a cup of tea together as if nothing ever happened between us at all!’ Spinning round on her heel, Rowan was halfway to the bedroom door when she felt herself yanked back to face a furious-looking Evan.
‘You’re hurting…don’t you think I know that? We’re both on the rebound, God dammit! You knew right from the start I wasn’t into long-term relationships, so why the big, wounded-doe eyes?’
The ache in Rowan’s throat felt as if it was going to choke her. Wrenching her arm out of his iron-like grip, she breathed deeply before replying.
Was this what it was like to feel the last vestige of hope for something good smashed to smithereens, with everything going crazy and nothing at all going to plan? She felt as if she’d just been swept down the side of a rocky mountain, the bumps and bruises she collected on the way scarring her for ever.
‘I feel sorry for you, you know that? You carry around that precious wounded pride of yours like some kind of badge! Using it to fend off anyone who remotely wants to get close. It must be a very lonely life, Evan, and believe me, I know “lonely” inside and out. But don’t worry…I finally get the message that all you were interested in was sex with the grateful little widow. I suppose if I were a less sensitive woman I’d be flattered by the attention. After all, you’re such a catch, aren’t you? Frankly I wouldn’t want a relationship with you if you really were the last man left on earth!’
‘You talk about me wearing my wounds like a badge? So go find this Paul whatever-his-name is and find out some more stuff about your husband that you don’t want to know, then you can go home and live your nice, safe little celibate life, shrivel up inside and grow old!’
‘That’s a horrible thing to say!’ She dipped her head, her dark lashes spiky with tears. ‘I thought you were my friend.’
Right then, Evan didn’t think it was possible to feel bleaker. But when Rowan glanced at him, all the trust she’d placed in him clearly gone, he honestly felt worse than he had the day he found out that Rebecca had been sleeping with his best friend. And all because he was terrified she wanted something that he knew he couldn’t give her.
Disgusted with himself, he turned away to stalk back to the window. ‘Yeah, well, I’m a bastard, so what do you expect?’
‘I don’t think you’re a bastard.’ Her voice was soft, all the fight gone. ‘I just think you’re scared of being hurt. Join the club, Evan…so you’re human after all.’
Evan didn’t realise he’d been holding his breath until he heard the door shut quietly behind him.
Nobody told her it was possible to have bruises on the inside as well as out, Rowan reflected as she moved the paintbrush back and forth over the same patch on the wall for the third time. She felt deluged—numb, as if crashing rocks had fallen on her head and left her for dead. Since Evan had driven them back from the hotel yesterday morning, there wasn’t so much as an inch on her body that didn’t ache with regret and longing that things hadn’t turned out between them as well as she’d secretly hoped. Because now there was nowhere to hide from the fact that she had been nursing a secret, vain hope that somehow, some way, she and Evan could progress from the tentative, brittle relationship they had to something more deeper and more lasting. But the man didn’t want to know, not in the way that she yearned for him to. And now, as well as finding herself a widow and betrayed, she found herself rejected by a man she had seriously grown to care for. If she were paranoid she might start to believe that somebody up there really didn’t like her.
There was only one thing she could do under the circumstances. Carry on with her life and forge ahead with the new start she had envisaged for herself in the beginning, just after Greg had died. She would do up the cottage a treat: she would make it a project, give herself goals to aim for each day, anything to give her some sort of purpose and shape to her day. Better still—anything to keep herself from brooding over every sorry thing that had happened.
But like most things in life it was easier said than done. Putting down the paintbrush, then pulling the band from her pony-tail, Rowan shook her glossy brown hair free and went into the kitchen to put the kettle on. Helping herself to a biscuit, she took a bite and almost jumped out of her skin when the doorbell impinged rudely on her already shattered nerves.
‘Can I come in?’
She knew it would be Evan, but finding him standing there in the rain still came as a shock. As she’d started towards the door she’d warned herself to stay aloof, be somehow remote, make him see that she was nobody’s fool—least of all his. But all her attempt at bravado flew out of the window when she saw the bleakness in his haunted green gaze.
‘You may as well, now that you’re here.’ Turning her back, she edged past the furniture still blocking the hallway and went straight into the kitchen.
‘I see you’ve made a start on the painting.’ He spoke as if the words were painfully inept—a disguise for something else that he couldn’t bear to articulate. Rowan sighed.
‘I want my living-room back.’ She plugged in the kettle as she spoke, then set about arranging cups onto saucers. In all the chaos, a little thing like pretty bone china helped to remind her there was still beauty in the world. ‘I’m tired of living like a refugee in the kitchen.’
There was a rustling sound behind her and she turned to see that Evan had removed his raincoat and was spearing his fingers through his damp hair, looking around him as if he meant to stay. Her pulse raced. So maybe he hadn’t come to tell her there was no future in them seeing each other, after all? The tiniest flame of hope flared in her heart.
‘Well, I’m here to give a hand,’ he informed her gruffly, and before she could reply made his way back out into the living-room. Rowan followed him.
‘You don’t have to do that. I can manage fine on my own.’
‘I’ve no doubt of that, but it’ll be done quicker if both of us do it. Then you can resume normal life again.’
‘If only it were that easy.’ With a fleeting, unhappy smile, Rowan wrenched her gaze away and returned to the kitchen.
CHAPTER TEN
HE HAD had the shakes again this morning. He’d cursed, then looked into his shaving mirror and seen stark, cold fear in his eyes. Now, as Evan moved the paintbrush up and down the walls in smoothly fluid strokes, he started to feel calmer and more centred. It wasn’t so much the painting, he realised. It was simply being with Rowan that made him feel better. There was something about the woman that helped ease the ache in his soul, and even though he knew he had no right to take advantage of her innate goodness, he just couldn’t seem to help himself. He knew she was hurting. He knew she was angry. He knew he couldn’t ultimately give her what she needed because the last two years had almost broken him, but still he wanted to be near her…for now at least. And if he could make her happy by helping decorate her house, or helping her to get fit, then Evan was more than pleased to comply.
‘It’s taking shape, isn’t it?’ Glancing round at the almost completed paintwork, the soft mauve giving a fresh, summery look to the once much darker room, Rowan smiled in pleasure. She was wearing old denim jeans and a baggy blue shirt, her hai
r was left loose round her shoulders and she wore no make-up. Evan thought she looked ridiculously young and carefree. That was until you gazed into her eyes and saw the hurt that lingered there…some of which he had contributed to, it pained him to admit.
‘I was going to start on the doors tonight, if that’s OK with you? May as well get it finished.’
‘Evan? Why are you doing this? I’d hate to think you felt obligated in any way because of what happened between us.’
Laying the paintbrush across the paint tin, he straightened and wiped his hands carefully on a rag. His gaze was very direct and completely steady when he glanced back at her. ‘I don’t feel obligated. Let’s get that clear once and for all.’
Rowan sank down into the warm, fragrant bath water and sighed deeply as the water lapped over her, stealing the ache from her bones. The bathroom was the one place in the house that seemed like a sanctuary. Before she’d started to tackle any of the other rooms she’d put up pretty lace curtains, decorated the uneven walls with various ceramic plates showing marine life and mermaids, and filled the two narrow pine shelves with a plethora of soaps, foams, bath gels and perfumes. She’d also treated herself to a sumptuous set of deeply luxurious white bath towels, and they were folded neatly over the wooden Victorian bath rail just within reach of the old-fashioned claw-foot bath.
Shutting her eyes, Rowan let her thoughts drift in no particular direction, then tried to rein them in when she found herself concentrating a little too much on Evan, who was still working downstairs.
She’d never known there was such pleasure to be had in watching a man work. In his black T-shirt, the taut, lean muscles in his arms flexed and moved with every brushstroke, his darkly handsome gaze totally concentrated on the task in hand. Rowan had plenty of opportunity to study and observe. ‘Poetry in motion’ was her conclusion, after about ten minutes of doing nothing else but sneaking furtive little glances from the kitchen doorway. Everything about him beguiled her—he even managed to elevate the most ordinary of tasks to something beautiful and extraordinary. Had she ever been so fascinated by watching Greg work round the house? She couldn’t remember. Right now she could barely remember his face…
Her eyes flew open in sudden panic. People said that happened sometimes after a bereavement, but she hadn’t thought it would happen to her. A cold feeling slithered down her spine like day-old porridge and made her shiver. Why should she want to remember his face after what he had done to her? He’d loved someone else, hadn’t he? Had a baby with someone else when for so long he’d denied Rowan the chance to be a mother… She was hardly aware that tears were coursing down her face, she was so wrapped up in her pain, and when the door opened quietly behind her then closed again she took a moment or two to scrub them away before turning her head to see Evan standing there.
He’d come to find her to tell her he was finished for the night. He hadn’t meant to go right in, but then he’d heard her crying and been compelled to. She’d tied her hair up into some kind of loose arrangement on top of her head, he saw, and little tendrils curled damply around her ears as she stared back at him with those liquid brown eyes of hers. Her lashes were long and spiked from her tears and her mouth looked very soft and damp and pink. As he stared, his heart pumping a little too fast, the steamy, scented air from her bath seemed to seep into Evan’s skin and add to the heat that was already setting him on fire at the sight of her. Desire vibrated through his blood, demanding, hot and urgent, and for a moment he couldn’t speak.
‘You came to tell me you were going home.’ Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Rowan forced a smile, telling herself not to pay any attention to the disturbing fact that he had closed the door behind him. But it was asking the impossible to ignore the fact that he was standing there—all six feet plus of hard-toned male in tight blue jeans and the black T-shirt that so lovingly defined the amazing power in his chest and shoulders—as physically perfect as a girl could imagine.
He didn’t move. ‘Do you want me to go home?’
It was a loaded question and they both knew it. But Rowan surmised: what did she have to lose? She’d already lost pretty much everything she’d believed in anyway.
‘Are you offering me a shoulder to cry on?’ she asked, her voice growing husky.
‘Tell me why you’re crying.’ Somehow Evan found himself on his haunches beside her bath, his hand reaching out to finger one of the exquisitely damp tendrils that clung to her cheek.
‘I’ve had a lot to cry about…wouldn’t you say?’ A small trickle of perspiration caused by the steam slid down between her breasts. The air between them seemed to grow even thicker. Evan was gazing at her as if she had the power to save his soul, and something in Rowan shifted and settled. Somehow she found herself smiling. Tears and smiles…right now they were hard to separate. She was on an emotional roller coaster that didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping. Reaching out, she pushed away a lock of ebony-coloured hair from his forehead, her heart swelling with tenderness at the deep ridges she found there etched into the otherwise smooth skin. Up close his amazing eyes were myriad shades of green and his black lashes unbelievably long and lustrous. ‘Stay, Evan… I want you to stay.’
For answer he trailed his fingers in the bubbles of her bath water, his thoughts masked for a moment, as if the steel bars he mentally erected between action and feeling were firmly in place again. Then he smiled, making his whole countenance change, and Rowan let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding and smiled too.
‘Is there room for two in there?’ he asked.
Heart thudding against her ribs, Rowan nodded slowly. It was hard to tear her hungry eyes away from him as Evan stripped down to his boxer shorts. The man was mesmerising—his torso beautifully muscled and lean, his shoulders wide and his legs long and dusted with fine dark hairs. When he finally removed his shorts she discovered another area that was equally beautiful and impressive. Drawing up her knees, Rowan waited dry-mouthed for him to settle in the water opposite her, his limbs brushing intimately against hers as the bubbles decorated his skin with delicate white foam.
‘Hmm…feels good,’ he breathed.
‘I expect you’re aching from your…from all your hard work.’
‘Darling, I’m aching…but not from working hard. Come here.’ Before she could gather her scattered wits, Rowan felt her face cradled in his hands while his mouth came down hotly and sweetly on her lips. He took his time, his velvet tongue exploring her intimately as she trembled for him—already the need inside quickly building from ‘this is so good’ to ‘I’m going to die if you don’t take me any time soon.’
Under the water Evan’s skilful fingers found the soft, hot flesh between her thighs and stroked it. Winding her arms around his neck, Rowan nibbled the side of his bristly jaw, then planted a succession of inflammatory little kisses at the corner of his mouth, at the side of his neck. He groaned, loving the feel of her silky, dusky-pink-tipped breasts pressing into his chest. Right at this moment he didn’t have a single doubt that they were meant to be together like this. In fact Evan didn’t know when lovemaking had felt so right. His fingers spread her and inserted themselves inside. She was trembling so hard that Evan ached for her doubly, wondering how long he could hold back before he loved her fully the way he longed to. But he wanted to give her the utmost pleasure, so he deliberately took his time, kissing her hotly while his fingers worked their magic and holding onto her tight when her hips bucked and her face fell forward against his shoulder as she whimpered her pleasure.
Wordlessly Evan withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his sex. Raising her hips, Rowan wrapped her thighs firmly around his waist, taking him deep inside her. So deep that Evan’s heart beat high and wild and furious in his chest as he pumped into her, ignoring the fact that the bath water sloshed frantically around them and finally spilled over the roll-top edge. Her beautiful brown eyes appeared dazed and dewy as Evan bent to capture one of her dusky nipples i
n his mouth, greedy for the taste of her as he thrust again and again into her core. Then in one hot, blinding burst of sensation he found himself spilling into her, emptying himself until he was spent and drained. Just before, he had registered her own sudden, wild cry, and Rowan looked stunned as he withdrew and pulled her into his arms.
Their skin slick with wetness, water spilling everywhere, they held on to each other for long seconds without speaking. Then, shivering with sudden cold, Rowan moved her head to glance up into Evan’s eyes. ‘Will you stay with me tonight?’
He saw the naked need reflected in the dark, velvet depths of her gaze and experienced a moment of panic. He had never meant to get this involved. He knew he could fool himself he wasn’t, but he was. Right now he was in so deep he was drowning. But then a feeling of shame swept over Evan, because Rowan had given him everything and held nothing back. There wasn’t a selfish bone in her body and he knew it. He’d meant it when he’d told her that her husband must have been out of his mind to have an affair with someone else. So…he would stay the night, and in the morning…in the morning he would tell her the truth about himself. Why he was here, that he had issues of his own that urgently needed addressing before he was whole enough to even think about something like commitment, and Rowan would hopefully understand why their relationship could not progress into something more meaningful…
‘I understand if you don’t want to.’ She’d started to climb out of the bath and, surprised, Evan tugged her down again into the water. He hadn’t realised he’d taken so long to reply.
‘I want to stay the night. Do you hear me, Rowan? I want to stay.’
Tentatively she placed her hand on his glistening chest and smiled. ‘Good. I’m happy now.’
Cupping her lovely face between his hands, Evan grinned back at her. ‘Sweetheart, I live to make you happy.’
