He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her head so their eyes met. Again he captured her mouth, this time in a slow, tender but overwhelming kiss. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her reeling in the doorway.
Gray floated along the balcony and down the stairs, his head in the clouds and his feet hardly touching the floor. What kind of magic had this beautiful young charmer woven around him? No other woman had ever affected him this way. Kissing her was like kissing an angel—soft as a baby and radiant as the glow of heaven.
There was nothing earthy about it, although he knew beyond doubt there would be if it ever happened again. He'd better enjoy this moment, because it was a one-time thing. He'd see to that.
Eve watched Gray as he walked away from her and descended the stairs. Her legs were so rubbery that she slid slowly down the doorjamb and sat on the threshold, her knees bent and her arms wrapped around her shins. She'd known that a kiss between the two of them would be special, but she hadn't been prepared for the exultation that swept over her and left her totally enthralled.
It hadn't even been a passionate kiss. It had been sweet and pure and tender, but with an undercurrent of yearning. The kind of kiss that would never burn out, but would keep some lucky woman wrapped in a cloak of adoration forever.
Eve didn't hear from Gray again until Saturday, although her nervous system had been attuned to quiver at the ring of the doorbell or the sound of the telephone. She was well aware that he hadn't said anything about talking to her again until after he'd asked his station manager about the public service spots, and he'd made it plain that the station manager wouldn't be available for several days. Still, she'd thought that after that kiss…
She mentally tried to brush that thought from her mind. Obviously "that kiss" hadn't affected him as it had her.
So why was she surprised by that? He'd taken great pains to let her know that although he was attracted to her, he was a committed bachelor. If he was as forthright with all the women he dated as he'd been with her, he probably had lots of them in this town, sitting by their telephones after a night of passion, hoping he'd call them even though they knew there would be no lasting relationship.
On this bright and sunny Saturday morning, Eve was sitting at the table sipping a mug of coffee and working on a crossword puzzle. This was the first day of her summer vacation and she was determined to loll around all day, doing only what she wanted to. That included starting the new Stephen King novel that she knew would scare the daylights out of her, but that she nonetheless looked forward to with anticipation.
She raised her arms in a long, leisurely stretch, then stood up. First, though, she'd better do a load of wash. She could take her book with her to the communal laundry room downstairs, and read while the machines were running.
She gathered all her dirty clothes and linen into a basket and was on her way to the front door, when the doorbell chimed. As usual her muscles twitched, and an image of Gray sprang to mind. She forced herself to relax. No way would this be him. For one thing, it was a weekend. He probably had Tinker. Even if he didn't, he was too considerate to pop in on her without calling first.
With her basket of clothes under one arm, she hurried to the door and opened it.
It was Gray! And Tinker wasn't with him.
"Gray!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't expecting you… That is, please, come in."
Balancing the filled basket on her hip, she fumbled to unlock the screen door.
"I know you weren't," he said as he waited. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't call you. Your phone seemed to be out of order. I reported it, but the phone company said they were having a problem with the lines in this area, so since I couldn't get through, I decided to take a chance and just drop by. If it's inconvenient—"
"No, no. Not at all," she lied, and pushed the screen open. Actually, it was inconvenient, or at least embarrassing. If she'd known he was coming, she'd have dressed up instead of pulling on her comfortable old jeans that had faded and shrunk with numerous washings and now clung to her like second skin.
"I was just on my way to do laundry," she explained unnecessarily as she backed up to let him enter, all the while aware of the ratty old sweatshirt she was wearing. It should have been tossed out years ago.
In just one minute, she'd undone the impression she'd worked so hard to achieve last time she saw him—that of an attractive, cool, and sophisticated career woman. After today, the only lasting impression he'd have of her was that of a slob with too-tight pants, tousled hair and a messy apartment.
"Don't let me disrupt your schedule," he said as he hesitated at the open door. "I can come back another time—"
"There's nothing urgent about washing clothes," she said as she set her basket on the floor next to the sofa. "Come in and have a cup of coffee."
"Well, if you're sure…" he said, then walked in and shut the door behind him.
Gray followed Eve into the kitchen. He'd forced himself to stay away from her these past five days, but finally he couldn't stand it any longer. He'd broken every self-imposed rule he'd set for himself concerning her, and followed his longing instead of his good sense. Now he was enjoying every second of watching that curvy bottom of hers move enticingly from side to side in those clinging jeans that left little to the imagination.
He was suddenly aware of his throbbing arousal. Man! He wasn't prepared for this strong a reaction, but perhaps that was because he'd been hiding from the truth of it. When he'd taken her to dinner, she'd been beautiful with a natural elegance that gave him permission to look but not touch. Today, she seemed so much more approachable.
He'd told himself that he could handle his attraction. That for Tinker's sake, they could control their mutual feelings for one another and just be friends. But that was before he saw her in tight pants that showed off her long, slender legs, her thighs that joined her hips in a most inviting fashion.
He couldn't even tear his gaze away. How was he supposed to keep his hands off her?
She stopped at a table situated at the far end of the rectangular kitchen. The morning newspaper was strewn around on it, and she quickly gathered it up and began folding it. "Sorry about the mess," she apologized. "Go ahead and sit down. I'll bring the coffee."
He could see that she was distressed about the house not being pristine, and he tried to put her at ease. "You call this a mess?" he said with a chuckle. "You should see mine. I have a cleaning woman who comes in once a week, but the other six days I'm pretty slovenly."
She smiled, and he could feel an easing of the tension in the atmosphere. "Now that's not true, and I know it's not because I've been to your house. Remember? It was spotless."
He chuckled. "Yeah, and that was the day the cleaning lady came."
They both laughed. Eve picked up the filled mug and carried it to the table, then sat down with him. He was also dressed casually, but his jeans and T-shirt were a lot newer and in better condition than were her clothes.
This was the first time she'd seen him in anything but a suit, and it was evident he'd look great in anything he chose to wear. The muscles under the sleeves of his T-shirt were proof of regular workouts. He might have a sedentary job, but his body was hard and rugged. She wondered if he'd ever done any modeling, but decided not to bring up that subject. It was best not to get too personal. Much more of these thoughts, and she'd throw herself at him and beg for another of his bone-melting kisses!
"So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" she asked instead.
"I wanted to tell you I spoke with Paul Norton, our station manager, about doing public service announcements for you," Gray told her. "He seemed interested. Said he'd check it out, and if everything is the way I've presented it to him he'd run it past the legal department. If they approve, it's a go."
A hot rush of gratitude swept through her, and she could feel the glow that radiated from her face as she impulsively grabbed his hand and brought it to her mouth. "Oh, Gray, how can I ever thank you," she said betwee
n the kisses she was planting on his palm and wrist.
It was just a gesture of appreciation, she told herself, but before she realized what was happening, he'd pulled her from her chair and set her on his lap. "If you want to do that, then be prepared for the consequences," he muttered hoarsely, and brought his mouth down on hers.
Without another thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave as well as she was getting.
This time was different: he didn't hold her as if she were a piece of fragile porcelain that would break. He held her the way he would embrace a desirable woman whom he wanted to know better, needed to know more intimately. A woman he hungered for just as she hungered for him.
Even as his hands roamed over her, gently but eagerly, she could feel the effort he was making to hold back. She was both grateful and disappointed. She wanted to know the full force of his passion, but it would be foolish to encourage that. It could so easily get out of control, and neither of them wanted a commitment.
His hand cupped her breast, and he rained small kisses over her face. She whimpered with excitement and snuggled closer in his lap as she tightened her arms around his neck and nuzzled his throat. She could feel his unyielding hardness under her bottom, and gloried in it. It gave her a delicious sense of gratification to know that she could affect him so strongly.
A sound like a mixture of pleasure and pain escaped from deep in his throat, and he laid his cheek against her breast. "I promised myself this wasn't going to happen," he said raggedly.
"Are you sorry?" she whispered in his ear.
"Not right now," he said. "But I will be when I have to put you away from me. Then I'm going to suffer, for sure."
"So will I," she admitted, and she realized that although he'd been caressing her ribs, back and breasts through her sweatshirt, he'd never once let his hand stray below her waist or under her clothes.
He was obviously determined not to seduce her, even though he could have done so with little effort. She'd never been this…ready for a man before. She knew he was the one exhibiting good sense, even though part of her wished he wouldn't.
Gradually, Gray slowed his exploration of Eve's upper body and settled on her ample breasts. They were high and soft, but he could feel her hardened nipples even through the shirt she wore.
He ached to tear off the offending garment and take those delicious peaks in his mouth. To suckle them and drink of her sweetness.
She shifted in his lap, sending tremors through him. It took all his strength and resolve, but he managed to find the willpower to push her away from him and sit her upright on his thighs. "Sorry, luv," he groaned, "but if we don't cool it now, we won't be able to later."
Would that really be so bad? Eve wondered as she struggled to catch her breath and gain some semblance of composure. Obviously he thought it would, and she wasn't going to make a fool of herself by protesting.
"Yes, you're right," she agreed instead. "I'm… I'm sorry. I don't usually—"
"I know you don't," he interrupted to assure her, possibly a tad too fast to be believable. Was he trying to cover up a suspicion that she made love with every good-looking man who came to her door? She wouldn't blame him if he did think that. She hadn't given him any reason to believe otherwise.
She felt a hot flush suffuse her face, and quickly stood up. Gray rose, too, and for a moment they just stood there, looking anywhere but at each other. Neither of them seemed willing or able to break the awkward silence.
Finally, Gray spoke. "Eve, I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't come here to…to—"
"Why don't we just agree that we were both out of line," she suggested quickly, wishing he'd just go away and leave her to crawl under the bed and hide. "Now, if you don't mind, I really do have to get back to my laundry…"
"Yes, of course," he said, then hesitated. "There's just one other thing. Are there any supplies I'll need to buy for Tinker before you start tutoring her on Monday?"
Eve's eyes widened with alarm. Tinker! Monday! After today's encounter, how could she possible work with the child every weekday afternoon in Gray's home?
On the other hand, how could she not? She'd agreed to do it. Tinker was expecting her, and Gray was relying on her. Besides, if she backed out now, he'd know how badly he'd humiliated her, even though he was trying to protect her from her own naiveté.
She took a deep breath and turned to face him. "No, it will be easier if I pick up what's needed and then bill you. Is there a limit on what I can spend on books, supplies?"
"None whatsoever," he said as she started edging them toward the front door.
She quickened her pace. "Okay then, I'll see Tinker on Monday. Let her wear comfortable clothes, and the first day or so will be mostly a get-acquainted time while we work up to the lessons."
"May I be there for a little while?" he asked as they reached the door.
She frowned as she grabbed the knob and opened it. That was the last thing she wanted, but… "Well, it's your house and your daughter—"
"That's not what I meant," he growled. "It's probably hard for you to believe after what just happened, but I'm not planning to attack you, Eve. I'd just like to observe for a short time to see how Tinker reacts to the new arrangement."
Eve bit her lip as she silently cursed herself. "That's not what I meant, either," she said apologetically. "Of course, you can be there. Actually, it would probably be a good way to help ease the tension Tinker might feel with a new teacher."
He stepped outside, then turned. "All right then, I'll stay around for a few minutes just to see how things go. And, Eve— thanks for agreeing to tutor her."
Now he was doing it again. Charming her with that little smile filled with gratitude and those blue eyes brimming with admiration. How could she resist him?
Before she could respond, he'd walked away.
By Monday, Eve was a nervous wreck. She'd spent the weekend reliving that brief interlude with Gray in her kitchen and being alternately thrilled and disconcerted. What had gotten into her? Gray was practically a stranger, and what little relationship they had was—should be-strictly business.
So why had she gone willingly—no, fervently—into his arms and melted all over him? Not only that, but she'd started it!
Even the thought of the way she'd behaved made her squirm. He'd been a perfect gentleman up until the time she'd shamelessly thrown herself at him! She'd asked for what happened next, and although he seemed to be enjoying it as much as she, he was the one who put a stop to it. If he hadn't, she was almost sure she'd have made love with him.
She'd dithered about this meeting with him all weekend, dreading it. And now here she was, pulling up to the curb in front of his home fifteen minutes early! Oh well, there was nothing she could do about that now. She might as well go in and get that first agonizing meeting over with, so she could put it out of her mind and concentrate on making a friend of Tinker.
She gathered up her purse and the leather briefcase— the one her parents had given her last fall when she first started teaching—and got out of the car. Gray's red Jaguar was nowhere to be seen. He probably kept it in the garage, but there was a fairly new shiny white Toyota Cressida parked in the driveway.
Did he have two cars? Or maybe he had company. A girlfriend?
She shook her head and fought back a stab of jealousy. Obviously it was none of her business, but she preferred not to have a lot of people around when she was trying to instruct a child. Gray had known she was coming. He'd even indicated that he'd like to be here for a while, too. So why would he invite someone else?
A disturbing thought occurred to her. Did he think he needed a chaperon to protect himself from her unbridled ardor!
She rang the bell and waited. A stereo from inside the house was playing loud music. Elvis Presley, she thought, although the singer had been before her time.
Thinking the people inside couldn't hear the bell above the music, she punched it again, harder this time. In only a moment th
e door opened, and Tinker stood on the other side of the storm door.
She recognized Eve and let her in. "Come in," she said.
"Hello, Tinker." Eve greeted her as she stepped across the threshold and shut both doors.
The youngster was dressed in khaki slacks with a brown-and-green plaid, flannel shirt that wasn't tucked in at the waist. South Dakota can be pretty chilly in late May and early June, and this was one of those periods. Eve was also wearing slacks: black, with a black-and-white diamond-patterned pullover sweater.
"Who is it, sweetie?" called a girlish voice over the din. But the person who appeared from the direction of the living room to stand beside Tinker was not a girl. She was a small, perfectly proportioned woman, who wore a long black skirt and white Victorian-style blouse, and was possibly one of the most beautiful women Eve had ever seen.
Her features were exquisite, like those of a doll crafted of the most delicate porcelain. The feeling of being awkward and plain that had tormented Eve from her childhood swept over her again. Even though she knew she'd outgrown her adolescent ungainliness, the feeling was no less painful now than it had been then.
"It's Ms. Cost—Costop…" The child stumbled over the unfamiliar pronunciation.
"I'm Eve Costopoulos." She introduced herself and put out her hand.
"And I'm Mrs. Flint, Tinker's mother."
Eve didn't miss the emphasis on the title, Mrs. Not Ms., or Bambi, but Mrs. The woman was sending Eve a message that came through loud and clear. This man is mine, and woe betide anyone who tries to interfere.
The other woman barely touched Eve's hand with her own, then dropped it. "Oh, you must be the teacher my husband hired to tutor our daughter." She wrinkled her small, slightly turned-up nose in a gesture of disapproval. "Not that she needs it, you understand. There's nothing wrong with her intelligence. She just doesn't make enough of an effort—"
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