A Very Passionate Man

by Maggie Cox

  In the morning, achy and languid from their all-night lovemaking, Rowan slid out of her bed, leaving Evan to sleep. Stealing a helpless glance at one long, muscular arm, flung out across the duvet as he lay on his side, she couldn’t suppress the deeply delicious surge of heat that coursed through her blood as she gazed at him. She’d never had a more generous yet demanding lover, and had the faint yet perceptible bruises on her body to prove it. Feeling strangely at peace, she pulled on her robe, sought out her slippers, then made her way quietly downstairs to put some fresh coffee on to brew. By the time she returned to the bedroom, a tray containing coffee and hot croissants in her hands, Evan was sitting up in bed, white pillows plumped up behind him, and a bad-boy smile on his face that made Rowan almost drop their breakfast.

  ‘Where were you? I was hungry.’

  She couldn’t even begin to pretend she didn’t know what he meant. Her blush was as pink as her coral nail polish, and when she put the tray carefully down on the small walnut cabinet at her side of the bed her hands were visibly trembling.

  ‘That’s why I went to make us some breakfast.’

  ‘Not for food, you gorgeous, sexy woman. You know damn well what I’m hungry for.’ With an impatient scowl he made a grab for her wrist and tugged her across the bed towards him. Rowan’s robe fell open as he did so, and when she struggled to sit up the gaping sides revealed her perfect full breasts with their tight pink tips. Evan gazed as though he’d never get enough of just looking at her.

  ‘I’m hungry too,’ she said huskily, dragging the sides of her robe deliberately together, ‘and I want something to eat or I won’t have any energy to do anything.’ Scooting to the edge of the bed before he could stop her, Rowan placed a hot, fragrant croissant on a blue china plate and handed it to him. ‘How do you take your coffee?’ she asked, glancing back over her shoulder.

  ‘Hot and sweet,’ came his deliberately taunting reply.

  ‘Some fitness instructor you are!’ Rowan quipped back, taking a quick, hungry bite of her croissant before pouring his coffee. When nothing but silence greeted her comment, she turned round fully to regard him. He’d put the plate with the croissant on it to one side on the duvet and was staring in front of him as though in some sort of trance.

  ‘Evan? It was only a joke. I didn’t mean to—’

  ‘But you were right. I’m all washed up, Rowan. I drove myself too hard and now I’m all washed up.’ Swinging his long, muscular legs over the side of the bed, he reached for his boxers and jeans that he’d thrown across the brass bed-rail last night and yanked them on.

  Rowan’s stomach churned with dread. If there was a fitter-looking specimen on the planet she would be surprised. But there was something in Evan’s voice that told her he was speaking the truth, and that caused her to feel intensely afraid on his behalf.

  ‘What happened? Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked softly, her fingers curling apprehensively in the sensuous silk of her robe.

  There was a flash of self-loathing in his gaze that riveted her to the spot. ‘No, I don’t want to talk about it, but I guess I owe you the truth after all that’s happened between us.’ Directing his arms through the sleeves of his shirt, he pulled it down over his head with a bitter scowl. ‘When Rebecca left me broke, I gave myself two years to build up my business again. I had bills to pay, and employees who needed wages, and I was damned if I was going to crawl away with my tail between my legs and let everything go to hell because of what that woman had done to me. So I knuckled down and worked as hard as I could. I didn’t get to bed till the early hours most nights, and was up again at dawn to exercise and get to work. Slowly but surely I began to claw back everything that I had lost. Thankfully I had built up a loyal clientele, and I had a couple of good employees who supported me through thick and thin. When the business began to thrive again I pushed even harder for it to be a success.’ His mouth twisted scathingly. ‘You’d be right if you thought I had something to prove. I wanted to prove that no woman on earth was ever going to bring me to my knees again. My endeavours brought me a comfortable living and a business that goes from strength to strength. I could sell it tomorrow and never have to work again. Unfortunately, my efforts also contributed to weakening my immune system. I can’t tell you how much my body hurt just walking up a flight of stairs. I couldn’t exercise and I couldn’t do anything very much except crawl out of bed in the morning and drag myself into work. Then I caught the flu and it damn near killed me.’ Shaking his head, he walked to the window, lifted the blue voile curtain and glanced outside, as if his own stark admission had shaken him.

  All Rowan’s instincts screamed for her to go to him, to put her arms around him and tell him how much she cared. That no matter whether he was as fit as he was before they’d met or not, it made no difference to the way she felt about him. She wanted to help him if she could. They could help each other, couldn’t they?

  ‘That’s why you came down here to Pembrokeshire…to recuperate?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Letting the curtain fall back into place, he turned. ‘Then I met you.’ There was a heavy, meaningful silence after his statement and Rowan waited with trepidation for what was coming next.

  ‘It makes no difference to me how fit you are, Evan,’ she cut in quickly before he could speak. ‘All I want is for you to be well…to find pleasure and joy in life again. I’ll help you if you’ll let me.’

  When Evan saw how in earnest she was hope soared for a fragile instant, to be quickly squashed again by a sharp dose of reality. It was a waste of time even to dare to imagine that he and Rowan could have any kind of future together. She wasn’t driven, like him. She had no idea what his ambition had meant to him. Not only had he wanted to be the epitome of health and fitness but he’d wanted his business to be the best as well… Then and only then could he allow himself to be remotely satisfied that he’d made a success of his life. With his body weaker after his illness, and his feelings in turmoil about what that ultimately meant for his future, Evan could not allow himself to accept Rowan’s concern or help. The woman had been through enough without having his problems to contend with as well.

  ‘When my body is back to full fitness and I can compete with the best of them, then I’ll find some pleasure in life again.’ Across the room, his green eyes darkened perceptibly as he observed her. ‘Not that you haven’t given me pleasure, Rowan… You’re a warm, generous woman, and no man on earth could resist what you have to offer.’

  ‘But?’ Suddenly weary beyond measure, Rowan sank down onto the edge of the bed and waited for him to finish what he’d undoubtedly been going to say. She didn’t need to be psychic to know that she wasn’t going to like it.

  ‘I can’t give you what you’re looking for.’

  ‘And that is?’ She had a dizzying rush of blood to the head as her throat threatened to close.

  ‘Any kind of commitment. I’m not a good bet for a relationship and I think you know that. Besides…you deserve someone better. Someone whole, for God’s sake!’

  ‘You mean someone dependable and likeable and loyal to his friends? Someone like Greg, for instance?’

  Evan heard the anguish in her voice and instantly regretted the path the conversation had taken. ‘You weren’t to know he would act like he did.’

  ‘No.’ Rising to her feet, Rowan folded her arms across her chest and gave a tight little smile. ‘But if I were yours, Evan…and you were mine…would you have betrayed me like that?’

  The question hit him like a tidal wave.

  ‘No,’ he said adamantly, his chest in a vice. ‘Never.’

  Visibly, her slender shoulders dropped and her dark eyes registered pure, undisguised relief. ‘That’s all I wanted to know. Shall we have our coffee now?

  Her question replayed itself over and over in Evan’s mind as he moved the furniture back into Rowan’s newly decorated front room. ‘If I were yours and you were mine…’ Every time he thought about it, it seemed to catch him on the raw. As
seductive as the premise was, he had no business entertaining foolish thoughts of turning it into a reality. Once he’d finished doing the jobs around the house he’d promised, he’d decided that he would book a flight out to the Canary Islands, where a friend of his ran a small hotel. He’d soak up some sun for a couple of weeks, in the hope that it would do him good, then return to London and his job.

  He’d ease himself back into it, he wouldn’t be so driven…he couldn’t be. There was no doubt he could delegate more. Mike Thompson was an intelligent, astute man—he’d maybe let him steer the ship a bit more. Sighing, Evan paused in his manoeuvring of a sideboard to gather his thoughts. It was no good fooling himself that if he hung around here spending time with Rowan it was going to solve anything. In fact the contrary was probably true. The longer he stayed, the harder it would be to make a clean break when the time came. The woman had been hurt enough. Evan didn’t want to hurt her any more.

  She appeared at the front-room door just minutes later, dressed in a long, dusky-rose skirt that swished round her booted ankles, a sky-blue top with pearl buttons that dipped a little to give a hint of cleavage and a soft pink suede jacket. Pretty as a picture, she looked, and Evan didn’t bother to disguise the frank appreciation in his gaze.

  ‘Where are you off to?’ He’d already told her he didn’t want her humping furniture around, and had expected her to disappear into the garden to tend her precious new plants.

  ‘I’m going to London. Will you lock up when you’ve finished? I don’t know what time I’ll be back tonight.’

  Evan sensed the tension gathering behind his brows. ‘London? What for?’

  ‘To visit a friend.’

  Didn’t she know it was impossible for her to tell a lie? She was about as transparent as glass. Pushing up the sleeves of his denim shirt to his elbows, Evan slowly inclined his head. ‘You’re going to see this Paul guy, aren’t you?’

  Rowan couldn’t deny it. Deliberately avoiding his scrutiny, she ran her glance appreciatively around the room instead. The lilac and mauve walls, the beautifully sanded floor and the newly painted doors had transformed it. It was beginning to look like home again with the furniture moved back in. At least something in her life was going to some sort of plan.

  ‘It’s something I have to do. Please don’t give me a hard time about it.’

  Evan swore. He couldn’t help it. He ran his hand frustratedly round the back of his neck. ‘How can I give you a hard time when you’re already doing that so well yourself? You just can’t leave it be, can you?’

  Her lip quivered a little. ‘I have to know everything.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Then…then hopefully I’ll be able to lay the past to rest.’

  It was a tall order, and one Evan doubted she’d be able to accomplish. Hadn’t he been dogged by the events of his past for the last two years without any relief? It was like getting up every day, getting dressed—then putting on a heavy lead overcoat. That was how much Rebecca’s perfidy and betrayal weighed him down.

  ‘Well, I wish you luck, sweetheart, I really do.’ Turning away, Evan pushed the heavy oak sideboard flush up against the wall, then dusted his hands.

  Rowan stood in the doorway and stared at him, her heart feeling as if it was about to break all over again.

  ‘You don’t have much faith in me, do you?’

  ‘I have every faith in you, Rowan. I just wish you’d start being a bit kinder to yourself.’

  The look in his green eyes electrified her. She sensed the pull of it deep in her womb and longed to run to him, to wrap her arms around his neck and beg him to take her back to bed, where everything seemed so right and they could shut out the world and its darkness between them. But she was somehow set on this course of finding out the truth, and knew she couldn’t rest until she did. Besides which, she also had to come to terms with the fact that soon Evan would be leaving and she would be on her own again.

  The thought churned in her stomach and almost made her do that very thing that her desire was begging her to do. Clenching her fists down by her sides, she flushed a little because it was nigh on impossible to look at the man and not want him. ‘I will be. After…after this I’m going to concentrate on making this place as beautiful as I can. It will keep me busy. I won’t have time to brood…hopefully.’ She twisted her hands together but couldn’t prevent the anguish that flashed in her troubled brown eyes.

  Coming to a decision, Evan rolled his shirtsleeves back down, redid the cuffs, then angled his hard, lean jaw towards her. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to grab my jacket and get my car keys and I’ll take you to London.’

  ‘No, Evan! I don’t need you to come and hold my hand. I’m perfectly capable of—’

  ‘I’m doing it for my own satisfaction,’ he interrupted sternly, and stalked from the room.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PAUL RUTHERFORD had been on edge ever since Rowan and her ‘friend’ had arrived twenty minutes ago. After wasting at least ten of those minutes taking his time making coffee in the kitchen, Paul paced the floor several times to compose himself before returning to the living-room to face his best friend’s widow.

  To tell the truth, the big man with the impressive physique and wary green eyes currently occupying the end of the black leather sofa gave him the jitters. There was no doubt the man looked as if he could handle himself, and Paul abhorred violence, especially when it came to a physical threat to himself. But it would surely not come to that, he anxiously assured himself. They were both civilised, modern men… But Paul couldn’t help noticing that when it came to the pretty brown-eyed woman sitting next to him, the man had a distinctly proprietorial air that communicated to Paul that he would do whatever it took to prevent her being hurt in any way.

  He lifted the mugs of coffee off the tray and put them on place-mats on the low glass table in front of the sofa.

  ‘So…about this woman. This Anya. Did she know Greg had a wife back in London?’

  Rowan wondered how her voice could sound so composed when inside her stomach was churning so badly she almost wanted to be sick. Next to her, she sensed Evan shift in his seat and move a little closer.

  Paul lowered himself into a matching leather armchair and leant forward, his forearms resting on his thighs. He looked nervous, Rowan observed, but for once she could find no reason to be sympathetic.

  ‘Greg told her he was married.’ Clearing his throat noisily, Paul flashed a particularly apprehensive smile. ‘He was going to tell you—’ He broke off when he saw the cool glint in Evan’s laser-like glance. ‘He was going to tell you when he got back from our last trip that he wanted a divorce. I don’t know why he didn’t. Maybe…maybe he couldn’t find the courage? Anyway, please realise this is hard for me too, Rowan. I hated him deceiving you, but he was my best friend. When I saw that he was falling in love with Anya, I couldn’t betray him. They seemed…’ He glanced down at the floor then back again at a white-faced Rowan. ‘They seemed so happy together.’

  ‘I see.’ Now Rowan really did feel like being sick. Not only had Greg betrayed her, but apparently he’d been going to leave her for this other woman too. She wanted to shout and rail: what was wrong with her that he could contemplate doing such a thing? But she didn’t. ‘And what about the baby? How is Anya managing? I understand she lost her job when she fell pregnant.’

  Evan glanced at her sharply, but managed to hold his tongue. He understood that she needed to do this, however painful. The least he could do was let her ask the questions she needed to ask.

  ‘It’s a struggle for her right now, but she’s hoping a friend of hers who also has children will take care of the baby when she finds another job.’

  ‘Well.’ Rowan sighed and her hand shook a little as she brushed it through her soft brown hair. ‘Perhaps I can help? Greg left me a little money. I could arrange to get a banker’s draft drawn up to tide her over for a little while. It seems only fair when she’s the mother of his child,
don’t you think?’

  Taken aback, Paul seemed to visibly relax. ‘It’s very good of you, Rowan, but it’s not really your problem, is it?’

  ‘Not my problem that my husband has a baby with another woman then gets killed crossing the road? Then whose problem do you think it is, Paul?’

  There was a slight catch in her voice that speared Evan’s heart. He covered her trembling hand with his own and gave it a squeeze. Then he looked Paul straight in the eyes and said, ‘Have you any idea what she’s been through? Can you even begin to imagine the torment?’ His temper building, he deliberately held back for Rowan’s sake, but Evan was damned if he was going to be all civility and politeness when her heart was breaking all over again. ‘Did the man have any conscience at all about what he was doing?’

  Paul flushed. ‘He said he regretted it, but that he and Rowan…’ his pale blue eyes darted briefly to her face ‘…that he and Rowan had stopped really communicating a long time ago. He told me he wasn’t looking for anyone else…it just happened.’

  Stopped communicating? Clearly she and Greg had been in very different marriages, if that was the case. As soon as he’d got home from an assignment, Rowan hadn’t been able to wait to hear how it had gone, what had happened, who he had spoken to. What had his flight been like? Had he managed to eat decent food? Had he missed her as much as she had missed him? Clearly Greg hadn’t been listening to her at all. Obviously his mind had been elsewhere when Rowan had happily chattered away. There was no other conclusion she could reach other than that she simply hadn’t been enough woman for her husband—or why would he have fallen in love with somebody else?

  Feeling decidedly queasy, she reached for her leather handbag, then stood up. As she turned round to speak to Evan she saw with a shock that he was already towering protectively over her, compassion and something else that she couldn’t fathom in his eyes as his gaze swept concernedly across her features.