by Linda Howard
Becky didn’t answer immediately, instead turning her gaze to the traffic on the highway. It was a delaying tactic, to give her time to think and organize her answer. He waited patiently.
“Are you serious about her?” she asked abruptly.
He wasn’t accustomed to being interrogated about his intentions, serious or otherwise, but he quelled his surge of irritation. Becky was asking only out of concern for Evie, an emotion he shared. In a very level tone he said, “I intend to marry her.”
Becky closed her eyes on a sigh of relief. “Thank God,” she said.
“I didn’t realize the state of our relationship was so critical,” he said, still in that cool, dead-level tone.
Becky’s eyes opened, and she gave him a considering look. “You can be very intimidating, can’t you?”
He almost smiled. If he could, it obviously wasn’t working on her. He’d never managed to intimidate Evie, either.
Becky sighed and looked again at the traffic. “I was worried. I didn’t know how important Evie is to you, and…well, the success of your relationship is critical to her.”
His curiosity became intense. “In what way?”
Becky didn’t answer that directly, either. Instead she asked, “Has she told you about Matt?”
Robert’s eyes glittered suddenly. “Probably more than even you know,” he said, his voice deepening as he remembered the first time he’d made love to Evie.
“About how he died?”
Sweat trickled down his back, but suddenly nothing could have moved him from the scorching asphalt parking lot. “He died in a car accident, didn’t he?” He couldn’t remember if Evie had told him that, or if it had been in the report he’d requested on Matt Shaw.
“Yes, the day after they married.” She paused, organizing her thoughts, and again she made what appeared to be a shift in topic. “Our father died when Evie was fifteen. I was twenty, already married, already about to be a mother. A year later our mother died. Can you understand the difference in the way losing our parents affected us?” she asked, her voice strained. “I loved them both dearly, but I had built my home with Paul. I had him, I had my son, I had an entire life away from my parents. But losing Daddy shook Evie’s foundations, and then when Mother died…Evie didn’t just lose Mother, she lost her home, too. She came to live with Paul and me, and we loved having her, but it wasn’t the same for her. She was still just a kid, and she had lost the basis of her life.”
Robert stood silently, all his attention on this insight into Evie’s past life. She didn’t talk about her childhood much, he realized. They had talked about a lot of things, sitting on the deck at night with all the lights off and the starry sky spread like a quilt overhead, but it was as if Evie had closed a mental door on her life before Matt’s death.
“But she had Matt,” Becky said softly. “He was a great kid. We’d known him all his life, and I can’t remember when they hadn’t been inseparable, first as buddies, then as sweethearts. They were the same age, but even as young as he was, when Daddy died, Matt was right there beside Evie. He was there with her when Mother died. I think he was her one constant, the only person other than me who had been there for as long as she could remember. But I had my own family, and Evie had Matt. He put a smile back in her eyes, and because she had him, she weathered the loss of our parents. I remember what she was like back then, a giggling teenager as rowdy as Jason is now, and full of mischief.”
“I can’t picture Evie as rowdy,” he commented, because Becky’s voice had become strained, and he wanted to give her a moment to compose herself. “There’s something so solemn about her.”
“Yes, there is,” Becky agreed. “Now.”
The jealousy he thought he had banished swelled to life again. “Because of Matt’s death.”
Becky nodded. “She was in the car with him.” Tears welled in her eyes. “For the rest of my life, I’ll carry two pictures of Evie in my mind. One is of her on her wedding day. She was so young and beautiful—so glowing—that it hurt to look at her. Matt couldn’t take his eyes off her. The next time I saw her, she was in a hospital bed, lying there like a broken doll, her eyes so empty that—” She stopped, shuddering.
“They had spent the night in Montgomery and were going on to Panama City the next morning. It was raining. It was Sunday, and they were in a rural area. There wasn’t much traffic. A dog ran out into the highway, and they hit it, and Matt lost control of the car. The car left the road and rolled at least twice, then came to a stop, on its right side, in a stand of trees. Evie was pinned on the bottom. Matt was hanging in his seat belt above her. She couldn’t get out, couldn’t get to him, and he b-bled to death in front of her, his blood dripping down on her. He was conscious, she said.” Furiously Becky dashed the tears from her cheeks. “No one saw the car for a long time, what with the rain and the trees blocking the view. He knew he was dying. He told her he loved her. He told her goodbye. He’d been dead for over an hour before anyone saw the car and came to help.”
Robert turned to stone, his eyes burning as he pictured, far too clearly, what a young girl had gone through that rainy Sunday. Then he reached out automatically and took Becky in his arms, holding her head against his shoulder while she wept.
“I’m sorry,” she finally managed, lifting her head and wiping her eyes yet again. “It’s just that, when I let myself think about it, it tears my heart out all over again.”
“Yes,” he said. Still holding her with one arm, he fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped her face.
“She’s never let herself love anyone else,” she said fiercely. “Do you understand? She hasn’t risked letting anyone else get close to her. She’s stuck with the people she already loved, before the accident—Paul and me, Jason and Paige, and a few, very few, special friends, but no one else. If you hadn’t pulled her and Jason out of the river, she would have drowned rather than let him go, because she couldn’t have stood to lose anyone else she loves. She’s been so…so solitary, keeping everyone a safe distance from her heart.”
“Until me,” he said.
Becky nodded and managed a wavery little smile. “Until you. I didn’t know whether to be glad or terrified, so I’ve been both. I want her to have what I’ve got, a husband I love, kids I love, a family that will give her a reason to go on living when someone else dies.” She saw the sudden flare in Robert’s eyes and said quickly, “No, she never said anything about suicide, not even right after Matt died. That isn’t what I meant. She recovered from her injuries—both legs were broken, some ribs, and she had a concussion—and did exactly what the doctors told her, but you could see that she wasn’t interested. For years, life for her was just going through the motions, and every day was an effort. It took a long time, but finally she found a sort of peace. Evie’s incredibly strong. In her place, I don’t know if I could have managed it.”
Robert kissed Becky’s forehead, touched and pleased by this fiercely competent woman’s concern for her sister. He would, he realized, like having her for a sister-in-law. “You can put down your shield and sword, and rest,” he said gently. “I’ll take care of her now.”
“You’d better,” Becky said, her fierceness not one bit abated. “Because she’s already paid too much for loving people. God only knows where she found the courage to love you. I’ve been terrified that you didn’t care about her, because if you waltzed out of here at the end of the summer, it might well destroy her.”
Robert’s eyes glittered. “When I waltz out of here,” he said, “I’m taking her with me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Walter and Helene Campbell were in their mid-sixties, retired, comfortable but not wealthy. Evie’s house was just what they wanted, well-built and maintained, but old enough and small enough that her asking price was much less than what they would have paid for a new house on the lakefront. They were both thrilled to the point of giddiness at their unexpected good fortune, for though they had asked several times
if she would sell, they had long since given up hope that she would.
They arrived at the marina over half an hour early, their estate agent in tow and bearing a huge sheaf of papers. Having never bought or sold a house before, Evie was struck by the amount of paperwork it evidently required and amazed that the agent had managed to get it all prepared in less than a day.
There weren’t sufficient chairs for everyone to sit down, so they stood grouped around the counter. The agent explained the purpose of each document as he presented it first for her signature, then the Campbells’. After an hour of dedicated document-signing, it was finished. Evie had sold her house, and the check was in her hand.
She managed a smile to send the joyous Campbells on their way, but as soon as the door had closed behind them, her smile collapsed. She closed her eyes and shuddered in an effort to control the grief that had been growing since she had made the phone call the day before. No matter that she had told herself it was just a house and she could live anywhere, it was her home, and she had just lost part of herself. No, not lost it—sold it.
But the marina was a more important part of her foundation, and the green cashier’s check in her hand had just saved it.
She wiped the betraying moisture from her eyes and braced her shoulders. She called Burt and told him she had to go to the bank and would be back in about half an hour. “Okay,” he said, as laconic as ever, when she asked him to watch for customers.
The transaction at the bank took very little time. The Campbells’ cashier’s check was deposited and a new cashier’s check cut in the amount she owed on the loan. Tommy Fowler saw her standing at the counter and came out to speak to her, his eyes anxious.
“How’re you doing, Evie?”
She heard the worry in his tone and managed a version of the same smile she had given the Campbells. “I’m okay. I have the money to pay the loan.”
Relief flooded his face. “Great! That didn’t take long. So another bank gave you the mortgage?”
“No, I sold my house.”
The relief faded, and he stared at her, aghast. “Sold your house? But, Evie…God, why?”
She wasn’t about to tell him, with the teller and other customers listening, that she suspected someone of blocking the mortgage. “It was something I’d been thinking about,” she lied. “Now my bank account is healthy, the marina is out of debt and will turn a pure profit, and I can take my time looking for another house.”
Varying expressions were flickering across Tommy’s face like slides. The final one, a rather uneasy relief, was testament to his belief in her pragmatic lie. “I guess it’s worked out, then,” he said.
She kept her smile intact with an effort. “Yeah, I guess it has.”
The teller handed the check over the counter to her, and she slipped it into the envelope. “I’m getting this mailed today,” she said to Tommy. “Thanks for all you did.”
“I didn’t manage to do anything,” he replied.
“Well, no, but you tried.”
She left the bank and drove straight to the post office, where the precious envelope was dispatched by express mail. She felt a sense of finality. It was done; she had gotten past this. It hadn’t been easy, but now she could move on.
Robert was waiting at the marina when she got back. “Where have you been?” he demanded, striding up as she slid out of the truck.
She blinked at the unguarded fierceness of his tone. Robert was seldom overt in his reactions, except in bed. “The bank and the post office. Why?”
He didn’t answer but caught her shoulders in a hard grasp and pulled her to him. His mouth was heavy and hungry, demanding rather than seducing a response from her. Evie made a muffled sound of surprise, her hands lifting to rest against his chest, but she gave him what he wanted, her mouth opening to admit the thrust of his tongue, her lips shaping to the pressure of his.
Passion rose sharply between them, strong and heady. She hadn’t recovered her balance after the difficult events of the day and she melted against him, drawn irresistibly to the whipcord strength of his body. Although a whirlwind was tossing the rest of her life about, he wasn’t swayed but remained solidly on his feet and in control. Though she had bitterly resisted—and feared—coming to depend on him, his very presence now made her feel better. She was both aroused and comforted by the familiarity of his body, his warm animal scent, all the subtle details by which she knew her mate.
He drew back, hampered by the public nature of the parking lot. Inside wouldn’t be much better, with people coming and going. He threaded his hands through her hair, tilting her face back so he could read every nuance of her expression. He must have been pleased by the drowning look of desire he saw there, for his fingers tightened on her scalp. “Not here, damn it. But as soon as I get you home…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Raw lust was on his face and in his voice, violent and intense.
Recalled to where she was, Evie cast a half-embarrassed look around and touched his hand as she slipped from his grasp. How many hours until they could go home? She didn’t know if she could wait that long. Her body was throbbing.
The long afternoon was an exercise in self-control, and she wished the summer days weren’t quite so long. She needed Robert, needed his driving presence within her, taking her into oblivion so she could forget everything but the almost narcotic pleasure of making love with him. She felt raw, her emotions sharp and too near the surface.
It was difficult, when she was finally able to close the marina that night, to hold to the schedule they had established. Robert wanted to take her straight to his house, but she resisted. “I don’t want to leave my truck here overnight,” she said. “You’d either have to bring me to pick it up in the morning or waste your morning hanging around so you could drive me to work.”
“It wouldn’t be a waste,” he growled, his lean face taut, and she knew what he envisioned them doing to pass the time.
Temptation weakened her, but she shook her head again. “It would be so blatant, if my truck was still here and you brought me to work. Craig—”
“You’re worried about Craig knowing that we sleep together?” he asked, amusement lighting his eyes. “He’s seventeen, sweetheart, not seven.”
“I know, but…this isn’t New York. We’re more conventional down here.”
He was still smiling, but he gave in with good grace. “All right, protect his tender sensibilities, though I have to tell you that most teenage boys have the sensibility of a rhino in heat.”
She laughed, and it felt good, her heart lightening. “Then let’s just say that I wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
He kissed her forehead. “Then go home, sweetheart. I bought some fillets this afternoon, and I’ll get them ready to grill before I pick you up.”
“I have a better idea,” she said. “You start grilling, and I’ll drive over. That will save even more time.”
He smiled again as he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip in a gentle caress. “You make me feel like a teenage rhino myself,” he murmured, and she blushed.
Anticipation heated her blood as she drove home, preoccupying her so much that she showered and dressed without more than a twinge of sadness. Her heartbeat pounded in the rhythm of his name.
It was still hot, so hot that she couldn’t bear the idea of encasing her legs in clothing, but she didn’t want to wear shorts. She opted instead for a gauzy blue skirt and a sleeveless, scoop-necked chemise, with her breasts unconfined beneath. The floaty skirt was virtually transparent, clearly showing her legs, but allowed air to filter through the flimsy fabric and cool her skin. She would never have worn it out in public, but to Robert’s house…yes, definitely.
He came to the door when he heard the truck in his driveway. His face tightened as he watched her walk toward him. “God,” he muttered. As soon as she was inside, he slammed the door and caught her arm, pulling her rapidly down the hall to the bedroom.
“What about the steaks?” she cried, startle
d by his haste despite the pleasant frustration of the afternoon.
“Screw the steaks,” he said bluntly, wrapping his arms around her and falling across the bed. His heavy weight crushed her into the mattress. With a quick motion he flipped the skirt to her waist and caught the waistband of her panties, tugging them down her legs. When her feet were free, he tossed her underwear aside and pulled her thighs apart, kneeling between them.
Evie laughed, the sound low and provocative. He hadn’t even kissed her, and her entire body was throbbing. He was tearing at his belt buckle with impatient fingers, and she added her hands to the confusion, trying to find the tab of his zipper and pull it down. She could feel the hard, swollen ridge of his sex, pushing at his clothing. He grunted as his length sprang free and lowered himself between her legs.
No matter how many times he took her, she always felt a small sense of surprise at his size and heat, and a flutter of uncertainty at the stretching sensation that followed the initial pressure as he sank deep within. She gasped, her entire body lifting to the impact. She was tender from the unbridled lovemaking of the morning, his thrusting sex rasping against inner tissues that were sensitive to the least touch. Intense pleasure rippled through her, tossing her unprepared into paroxysms of satisfaction. She cried out, her hands digging into his back as the shivery delight went on and on, past bearing, until she thought she would die if he didn’t let the pleasure ebb. He was muttering hotly in her ear, sex words, the sound indistinct but the meaning clear.
And then he shuddered, too, holding himself deep as the spasms took him. Afterward, he lay heavily on her, both of them breathing deeply in the exhausted aftermath. Drowsily she let her eyes drift shut, only to open them again as he suddenly chuckled, the small movement shaking them both. “Definitely like a teenager,” he murmured, nuzzling the lobe of her ear before taking it between his teeth and gently biting it. “No matter how often I have you, I want you again almost as soon as I move off you. The only time I’m satisfied is when we’re like this.” He thrust lazily, their bodies still linked.