by Sarah Morgan
“So now you’ve ruined your cashmere coat and your cashmere sweater.” Eva peered anxiously at the puppy to check he could breathe. “Is this your way of making it up to me?”
“No. I have other ideas for that but we’ll talk about those later.”
* * *
The vet had already been called by Fliss and saw them immediately.
“Dogs can get frostbite, just like humans.” He examined the puppy thoroughly and the dog started to whimper. “This guy survived because he was left by the tree, which provided at least some shelter.”
“What about the blood?”
“He has a small cut. There was probably something with a sharp edge under the snow. Twig? Stone?” The vet gave him some shots and then glanced up as a young woman burst into the room. Her coat was open and she was wearing a bright red scarf around her neck. Her hair was silver blond and caught back in a ponytail. It was obvious from the vet’s relaxed smile that he knew her. “Hi, Harry. How’s Fliss? Did she get over the flu? She sounded better on the phone.”
“She’s good, thanks. Sends her love and wanted me to tell you that Midas is doing really well since his operation. She’s bringing him back for a checkup next week. How is this little guy doing?” She smiled briefly at Eva but then turned her attention back to the dog. “Fliss told me about your call so I thought I’d come down and see if I could help. Aren’t you a cutie…” She stroked the puppy’s ears gently and he instantly stopped yowling and pushed his nose into her hand. “You poor baby. You’re safe now. It’s lucky Eva found you. What were you doing in the park, Ev?”
“I was building a snowman.”
“No, I mean why aren’t you in Brooklyn? I assumed you’d be going crazy organizing Christmas events.” Harry kept her hand on the puppy’s head, reassuring him as the vet finished his examination.
“I’m working around here for a couple of weeks. Cooking, helping with Christmas preparations, that kind of thing. This is Lucas. Lucas, this is Harriet Knight. She is one half of The Bark Rangers.”
“The Bark Rangers?” He remembered where he’d heard the name before. “You’ve helped my grandmother out a few times.”
Harry unwrapped her scarf from her neck with her free hand. “We have?”
“Mary Blade.”
Harriet’s eyes widened. “You’re the Lucas? Lucas Blade, the crime writer? Fliss is going to be so mad that she didn’t come down here with me. She has all your books. She loves your work. She and Frankie are rabid fans.” She smiled at the vet. “Probably shouldn’t use that phrase here, should I?”
“Lucas Blade?” The vet glanced up briefly, surprise on his face. “I’m a fan, too.”
Harriet was still stroking the dog’s ears. “If I’d known, I could have bought a book for you to sign. I have no idea what to get Fliss for Christmas. She’s impossible to buy for. That would have been perfect.”
Lucas caught Eva’s gaze. “I’ll sign a book for you,” he said. “I assume Eva has your address?”
“She does. You’d seriously do that? Thank you. That’s so generous.” Harriet held the dog while the vet finished his examination. “Well?”
The vet checked the dog’s ears. “I don’t think he had been in the park for long. A few hours at most, I’d guess.”
Harriet smoothed the puppy’s head. “I’m going to take you home and give you a lovely warm bed, and tomorrow I’ll contact the animal adoption center.”
“You’ll take him?” Eva looked doubtful. “Fliss said you were already fostering puppies.”
“I am, but Fliss is home recovering from the flu so she can help me. And anyone who spent the night out in the park last night deserves some home comforts. I can tell you, too, that this little guy will be rehomed fast. He’s adorable.”
Lucas watched as Eva stroked the puppy’s head. The yearning look in her eyes tugged at something deep inside him.
After all the conversations they’d shared, he knew that the death of her grandmother had left a deep void in her life. She was looking for a way to fill it. She wanted love because she thought love was something beautiful and simple.
He knew better. Love was messy and complicated and full of pain. It had sharp edges and a dark side and he wanted nothing to do with it ever again. Which was why he hadn’t touched her since that first night. He knew now that she was vulnerable and lonely. It would be too easy for her to fall for him, and he wasn’t going to do that to her.
He didn’t allow himself to think about the risk that he might fall for her.
He wondered if she was going to suggest keeping the puppy, but instead she smiled at Harriet.
“Thank you for coming, and for taking him.”
“Thank you for all the business you’ve put our way. We’ve had our best year ever. We’ve had to take on more dog-walkers. We’re covering the entire East Side now.”
“Paige told me.”
Lucas noticed that Eva was shivering. “You’re cold, Eva. You need a hot shower.”
Harriet looked concerned. “You do look cold. Go. I’ll finish up here.”
Lucas settled the bill and bundled Eva into a cab.
She put up a feeble resistance. “I might still be angry with you.”
He almost smiled at the “might.” “You’re not sure?” Luckily for him, she wasn’t a woman who could be angry with anyone, or anything, for long.
“You came after me, instead of locking yourself in your study. You prioritized a wet, wriggling puppy over expensive cashmere. That won you points. As did building a snowman.”
“While you’re working out whether you’re still mad or not, I’ll warm you up.” He pulled her against him. “You’re shivering as badly as that puppy.”
“We could have walked. Your apartment is only steps away.”
“Enough steps for you to get hypothermia.”
“Can I ask you something? If going to bed with me had nothing to do with the book, why did you do it?”
It was a question he’d asked himself. “Because my self-control isn’t as impressive as I thought it was.”
“Your self-control has been just fine since.”
“I’ve been working on it, for both our sakes. Your teeth are chattering.” He rubbed his hands over her arms. “Tell me how you met Harriet.”
“You’re changing the subject?”
“Yes. I don’t care what we talk about as long as it’s not sex.”
“Because you do, in fact, want to have sex with me again.” She peeped up at him. “That’s interesting.”
“Eva—”
“Harry and Fliss are twins, and their brother is a friend of Matt’s. When Daniel found out that we’d lost our jobs and were setting up on our own, he thought we might want to offer dog-walking as part of our concierge services. To begin with we had no business, but it has grown, and they’ve grown with us. You’d be surprised how many people in Manhattan own dogs. Fliss is the business brain, but Harry has a special gift with animals. Thank you for offering to sign a book. It was good of you to do that for her.”
“I didn’t do it for her. I did it for you. I’m trying to get back into your good books, remember? So far it’s cost me near-frostbite and a cashmere coat.”
“Why do you want to be in my good books?”
“Because if you walk out on me I can’t write, and I don’t get to eat delicious food.” He wasn’t ready to consider that it might be more than that. He felt the softness of her hair brush against his chin. She smelled of sunshine and summer fruits. “I thought you were going to ask if you could keep that puppy.”
“I almost did, but my practical side took over. There are days when I hate my practical side.” She sounded despondent and he eased her away from him so that he could see her expression.
“Did you want him that much?”
“A dog loves you unconditionally. And now you’re going to tell me that’s my fairy-tale view and that the puppy would probably savage me when it grows up.”
He leaned forw
ard to pay the cabdriver. “I think any dog living with you would be lucky.”
And any man.
They rode the elevator to the top floor and he kept his arms wrapped around her. He told himself he was holding her because he wanted to warm her up, but he knew he was lying to himself. He was holding her because it felt good and he was in no hurry to let her go.
She leaned her head against his chest. “I’m still mad at you for making me a murderer.”
“You don’t sound mad.”
“What? This is my angry voice.”
“I think your angry voice might need work. Or you could just stop being angry.” He wondered if she’d ever been able to be mad with anyone for more than five minutes. “If it helps, I’ll be groveling for days.”
“What form does groveling take?”
“Whatever works. If you want a favor, now would be the perfect time to ask. You want to sacrifice another bottle of my ridiculously expensive wine? No problem.”
There was a pause and then she looked up at him. “Sex,” she said simply. “I want you to take me to bed and give me another orgasm.”
Fifteen
Laughter is good for the abs.
—Eva
Eva felt the sudden loosening of his grip and for a moment she regretted speaking. She should have stayed silent and let it happen. Because it would have happened, she was sure about that. There had been something in his touch that wasn’t all about warming her.
“I’ll give you anything else, but not that.” His voice was rough, his powerful body taut with restraint.
“Why?”
“You know why. We want different things.”
“I want sex. What do you want?”
He cursed under his breath. “We are coming at this from a different place.”
“As long as we’re coming, it doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t laugh. “You’re a dreamy romantic!”
“You’re worried I’ll fall in love, but I won’t. Take a close look at me.” She lifted her face to his. “Do you see stars in my eyes? Do I look dreamy? Am I gazing at you as if you’re a gold-plated unicorn? No. And that’s because you’re not looking at a woman in love, Lucas, you’re looking at a woman who wants sex. Are you in or out?”
A smile touched his mouth. “Are you talking figuratively or literally?”
“Both, I hope.”
His smile faded and he grazed her cheek with his fingers. “Feelings aren’t that easy to control.”
“So now you’re saying you’re irresistible? That’s arrogant.”
“I’m saying you’re vulnerable. And I don’t take advantage of vulnerable women.”
“I’m not vulnerable. I’m open. It’s not the same thing. I’m not scared of feelings, Lucas. That’s the difference between us. Feelings are part of life. Feelings are how we know we’re alive.”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment and when the elevator doors finally opened he took her hand and led her to his apartment. “You need a hot shower to warm you up.”
“Are you taking one with me?” She slid her hand under his shirt and he clamped his hand over hers.
“Eva—”
“I’m taking your advice about that shower. I just hope you’ll join me.” She walked toward the stairs, unraveling her scarf as she walked. She dropped it on the floor, and then unbuttoned her coat, glancing at him in invitation. “I’m still shivering. I might die of hypothermia if you don’t warm me up fast.”
“So keep your coat on.” He spoke through his teeth and she smiled and shrugged it off, draping it over the back of a chair.
“I need to get out of these wet things.” She pulled off her sweater and heard the sharp intake of his breath. “It’s the Dance of the Seven Veils, thermal edition.”
Hoping that his need for her was stronger than his willpower, she walked toward the bedroom she’d been using.
She wanted him, and now she knew he wanted her, too, she was tired of holding back.
He followed her, but paused in the doorway, his hand on the doorjamb. His knuckles were white, as if he was preventing himself from taking those final steps into the room. “This is a bad idea.”
“Good sex is never a bad idea.” Her wet clothes stuck to her skin and her fingers were so cold she could no longer feel the tips, but somehow she managed to undress and walk toward the shower. She took her time, knowing he was watching her.
She wanted him, and she’d made it clear she wanted him. That was enough. She wasn’t going to beg.
She hit the jets with her numb fingers and closed her eyes, gasping with relief as the heat of the water warmed her freezing skin. Through the steady raindrops of water she heard his voice.
“We both know this isn’t just sex, Eva.”
His voice melted over her, rich and soothing, layered with a strength that relaxed the tension in her muscles. Her body responded to those deep tones and she kept her eyes closed, knowing that they always gave everything away in the few seconds before her mouth opened and did the rest.
“Do we?” She turned and let the water drench her hair and flow over her skin. “How many orgasms make a relationship?”
“I don’t know. You’re shivering. You’re still cold?”
“I’m not cold.” It had nothing to do with that, but she couldn’t begin to explain how she was feeling. She watched as he undressed and stepped into the shower unit, and then melted as she felt his hands stroke over her skin and the solid muscle of his thighs brush against hers. She held her breath, savoring the steamy, intimate contact of his skin against hers. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be touched, and she wasn’t sure it had ever felt as good as this. She told herself it was because she’d been starved of physical intimacy, but she knew it went deeper than that.
He eased her back against the wall so that the water ceased to drench her and instead thundered over his shoulders and down his back.
His hand was in her hair, infinitely gentle, sliding through the dripping strands, smoothing the droplets of water away from her face. He kissed her eyelids, then her cheek and finally, when excitement was a tight coil in her stomach, he kissed her mouth.
“Eva.” He breathed her name against her lips and she closed her eyes, sinking slowly into the deep, warm pool of desire that threatened to drown her.
She felt his mouth find a path from her jaw to her neck and from there to her shoulder. Anticipation was sharp and exciting, and when his lips closed over the tip of her breast she gasped and dug her fingers into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
“Now.” A single word, but infused with all the urgency of a command.
She half expected him to argue but instead he closed his hands over her bottom and lifted her, trapping her between the heat of his body and the cool tiles of the shower unit. The water thundered down, turning the atmosphere steamy and humid. Or maybe it was the chemistry between them that was responsible for the torrid, sweltering heat. All she knew was that she was no longer cold, and the parts of her that had been numb had thawed. Now she felt with every part of herself. Her skin, her lips, her fingertips. She pressed her mouth to his, feeling the dampness of his skin. His hair was sleek against his head, droplets of water clinging to his thick lashes and she felt him against her, brutally aroused.
Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he adjusted his hold on her and then entered her with a slow, deliberate thrust. Her muscles clamped around him and she dropped her head to his shoulder, welcoming the invasion, feeling his fingers gripping her bottom as he surged deep.
It was unbearably erotic, the restrained urgency, the heated intimacy. She wanted to stay like this forever, joined, connected, one.
She felt dizzy and breathless, and shockingly aroused. She tried to say something, tried to tell him how she was feeling but the only sound that emerged from her lips was a moan. Instead she showed him, sliding her hands over his shoulders, and down, lingering on the swell of his biceps, feeling the flex and ripple of muscle as he held her we
ight and drove deep. He kept up the slow relentless rhythm, thrusting deep, his mouth fused with hers, until pleasure crashed down on both of them.
* * *
Moonlight played across dark shadows and Lucas heard the soft sound of Eva’s breathing as she slept against him, curled into him like a kitten seeking refuge. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this again, that what had happened after the ball was a onetime thing. And here he was, naked and wrapped around Eva.
He wondered what it was about her that smashed through his self-control.
When he was with her, need overwhelmed caution.
It was a type of infatuation. A sexual infatuation that clouded his thinking. Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t allowed himself to get this close to anyone in a long time.
Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t love.
His body might be well and truly seduced, but his heart was untouched by anything they’d shared. Frozen? Damaged? He didn’t know.
Some of his tension must have communicated itself to her because she snuggled into him and yawned. Her limbs tangled intimately with his. “You’re quiet. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He was thinking that she was a woman who looked for, and expected, happy-ever-afters and nothing they shared could end that way. He knew nothing about happy-everafters. All he knew was that she wanted love, and he didn’t.
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“You are. You’re wondering what this means and where it leads.”
“It doesn’t lead anywhere, Eva.”
“Because you never want to fall in love again.” There was a long silence. “You think you’re such an expert on love, but what if you’re not?”
“You’re saying I didn’t love my wife?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” Her voice was soft in the darkness. “I’m saying that there are as many different ways to love as there are people in the world. No two relationships can ever be the same. If they were, then there would only ever have been one love story written.”
“You’re telling me that Romeo didn’t feel the same way about Juliet as Heathcliff did about Cathy?”
“Why must you always pick doomed relationships as examples? I’m saying that love is as different as the people who feel it. You could say that bread is just flour and water, but with a few subtle tweaks you can produce something different each time. Love doesn’t have to be a tragedy. It can be happy.” She hesitated. “Don’t you believe in second chances?”