"Cooking. Besides, I told you I wasn't leaving," he said.
Callie rolled her eyes. "Did you mean forever?"
Evan turned and sent a smoldering, do-you-want-me-to-answer-that look that made her mouth dry. She drank half the cup of coffee then cleared her throat. "Just for last night. After breakfast, you're gone, right?"
"Where are the servants?" Evan asked. She saw him turn off the burners then he presented a full plate of pancakes. "Don't you have a butler or a housekeeper?"
"No. I made arrangements for them to take paid vacations while Dad was in the hospital."
"Why? Wouldn't you feel safer having someone in the house with you?"
"Not really. A stranger's a stranger. I don't know any of the people that work for my Dad. I'm uncomfortable having people serve me."
Evan stopped buttering a pancake to look at her with raised brows.
"Believe me, I took advantage of it when I was a kid and a teenager. I just don't like it now."
"Do your own pancakes then," he said, handing her a full plate. "Here's the syrup."
She laughed, drowning the fluffy cakes in syrup. They ate in comfortable silence, until both pushed their plates away. "That was great. I didn't know you could cook."
"Neither does my sister. Don't tell her or she won't let me come over and mooch meals at her house."
"You have a sister?"
"Yep." He handed her a tea towel. "I wash. You dry."
"Why do you think dishwashers were invented?" Callie dropped the towel onto the counter. "I'll hand, you stack."
As they loaded the dishwasher, Evan told her about his nephew and nieces. She laughed at the stories, slowly relaxing in his presence. Unable to resist, she invited him for another cup of coffee.
"I envy you. I don't have any siblings. My mother died the year after I graduated high school. Then it was just me and Daddy."
"I'm sorry."
"History, now. Sometimes I can smell her perfume or hear soft singing. Daddy still keeps a picture of her by his bed. I miss her."
"She would have been very proud of you."
Callie stiffened. "That's a rather personal statement."
"I didn't mean to offend you. I think she would like the way you turned out, that's all."
She rose from the island and dumped her coffee into the sink. Turning, Callie leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "I'm going to see my father now. I no longer need your assistance. But thank you for staying with me."
"That's a dismissal if I ever heard one."
"Have you ever heard one?"
"Yes. Heard it. Didn't say I obeyed it."
Callie watched as Evan stood, untied the apron, and took it off. Despite his easygoing attitude, Evan had a coiled sexuality that intrigued her. His movements were unconsciously sensual and made her feel somehow needy.
When her gaze lifted to his face, he grinned. Callie took in his features, noting the beard growth and the boyish way his dark blonde hair hung over his forehead. A yearning unrecognizable and yet familiar filled her. She pushed it away, startled at its appearance in her heart. She couldn't afford emotions around him. He was a man and he was a cop. Two very good reasons to stay the hell away from him.
"So when are you leaving?" she asked.
"Not real soon. I've taken an extended personal leave."
"Lucky me," she grumbled, even though a small thrill broke through the wall she'd been trying to build against him. Annoyed that his presence gave her any kind of pleasure, she pushed away from the counter.
"Thank you for everything you did last night."
"Your welcome," he said gruffly. "Anytime you want to talk about anything or if you need me, just call."
"You won't quit, will you? I keep telling you that I'm fine. I don't need you. Why don't you just stop?"
"I never stop," he said, "until I get the answers I want."
Her laugh was abrupt and bitter. "Ah yes, but the answers you want are not necessarily the correct answers."
"I wish you would just talk to me."
"I wish that you would go away and leave me alone."
He grinned again. "Looks like neither one of us is going to get our wish, does it?"
"I suppose not."
"You know, Callie," he said. "The questions I want answered may not be the questions you think I want answered."
She stared him, then tilted her head. "Huh?"
"For example, how do you take the fear out of a beautiful woman's eyes? Why is she so prickly when it comes to cops? What happened to hurt her so much?"
Callie swallowed, unable to look away from his dark, dark eyes. "Why," she stopped and cleared her throat, "do you want answers to those questions?"
"You answer mine and I'll answer yours."
She shook her head. "I can't."
"You won't."
"Same difference," she said, shrugging.
"Okay," he said. "A question for a question."
Callie considered his request. An ache echoed in her heart; a deep longing that cracked her soul. She wanted someone to believe in her. Someone to love and understand and if not understand -- at least accept. But she hadn't even gotten that from her father. Daddy loved her, supported her, but lacked the words or actions to give her solace.
Callie fiddled with the belt loop on her pink shorts. "What's your question?"
"What's yours?"
She looked up, her eyes drawn to his chest, to the dark hair that arrowed into his jeans. "Why are you so interested in me?"
His gaze flickered and he looked away from a moment. When his gaze returned, a thousand emotions glimmered. "I like you. You're gutsy. Beautiful. I want to hold you all the time. You haunt my dreams at night, my thoughts during the day. I want to get to know you."
"You want to sleep with me."
"I want to be more than just a lover."
Callie shook her head. "I don't understand you."
"You don't have to, sweetheart," he said. "Now, it's my turn. Did I mention that you can't lie?"
"No."
"Well, you can't. Do you know who was at your window last night?"
Her heart slowed, pounding in a thump-thump-thump that echoed in her head. She would swear it had been Dan. But she knew that was impossible. She shook her head. "No."
"But you think you know. You said something about ghosts. Whose ghost?"
Her past wasn't any of Evan Madigan's business, no matter how handsome or kind or compassionate he was. She glared up at him. "Would you please leave?"
"Sure," he said. "I'll go about as far as the front porch."
"You're so annoying."
"It's one of my better qualities. So what are we doing today?"
Callie gritted her teeth. She realized that Evan wasn't going to budge from her house, or, apparently, her side, until he felt like it. How could she get rid of him? He made her nervous and gave her a strange awareness of her own femininity and vulnerability. It was those tender feelings that terrified her. Vulnerable felt too much like helpless -- and she was never going to be helpless again.
Nibbling her lower lip, she wondered what activity would a man like Madigan abhor? Maybe if she came up with something horrible enough, he would go away. An idea popped in her mind and she smiled. Looking at him through her lashes, she said sweetly, "Fine, Madigan, have it your way. After I see my father, I plan to spend the entire day shopping."
* * * *
"I can't believe this," Callie muttered as she watched Evan discover the sounds of a rain stick. A delighted grin lit his face. The long piece of wood made a rattling sound reminiscent of raindrops each time he turned it upside down. His boyish pleasure in something so simple surprised her. And she hated surprises, especially because her brilliant plan was not working.
They stood in a nature store of some sort -- only one shop in a long line of shops she had dragged him to in the last few hours. She'd insisted they go to all of Tulsa's major malls. Had he complained? Had he rolled his eyes in a masculine
chauvinistic way? Had he once suggested they stop? No. It had taken the last two malls to figure it out, but as she watched him put the rain stick down in favor of a wolf puppet, Callie knew the truth. Evan Madigan liked to shop.
So she'd done something unintentionally -- made him happy and herself miserable. Callie sighed, looking down at the lone bag in her right hand. It contained two pair of shoes that didn't match a single item she owned. But the electric blue flats and the green stiletto heels were too beautiful to pass up. Her one weakness was shoes. Other than the shoes, she'd bought some books. She'd purchased little partly because of her meager funds -- but mostly because she hated to shop. The irony of her plan struck her like a lead weight. She had thought Evan would whither like a rose on a hot afternoon if she'd shopped him to death. Unfortunately, she'd failed to consider how much misery it would cost her to browse stores for six hours. She smiled.
"Something amusing?" Evan's voice was a dark thread of sensuality curling like a ribbon through her. She stepped away and whirled around, cursing the sudden pounding of her heart.
"What the hell are you doing?" she snapped. She almost regretted her sharp words when the teasing light went out of his eyes, but he'd frightened her. She didn't like the way his voice created an aching heat that burned through her.
"Careful, Callie," he said. "Your Irish is showing."
"Are you finished playing with the toys?"
"This was your idea," he reminded her. "I'm hungry. Why don't we stop for a bite to eat?"
"I'd rather go home and slip into a coma."
"Did I mention that I can outshop my sister? Took her to the outlet mall in Stroud and she ended up begging for mercy."
"I can't believe you're real."
"Flesh and blood," Evan said. "Believe it." His gaze melted her annoyance. Then she frowned. Callie had let her heart rule her head when Daniel had swept through her life. She couldn't afford to confuse love with lust again.
"Relax, Callie," Evan said, shoving his hands into his jean's pockets and rocking back on his heels. "If you were a cat, your back would be arched and you'd be hissing."
"I'd be clawing you to shreds," she said. "Now, can we go?"
"Sure. Right after I buy that rain stick."
His grin nearly undid her. She gave a quick nod and turned around, heading for the exit. How could this man do such incredible things to her emotions?
Sighing deeply, she walked into the main mall. A bench was just outside the store. She sat down, not minding the hard wooden seat. It felt good just to rest. Setting the bag next to her, she leaned back and closed her eyes. Soon she would have to figure out what she was going to do. Soon. The rattle of a paper bag interrupted her drowsy thoughts. Opening her eyes, she saw a young man with a hoop earring in his nose leaning over her. He wore a black ball cap backwards on his shaved head. He grinned engagingly then whisked the bag off the bench.
"Hey," she cried out, jumping up. "Those are my shoes!"
He disappeared through the mall crowd, but she saw the black ball cap bobbing through the people. She ran after him, passing Evan as he walked out of the store. She felt the barest touch of his fingers on her arm, but slipped away from his grasp as she threaded her way through the throng.
"Callie -- damn it!"
Evan's voice faded as she drew closer to the running boy. How dare he take her shoes! She'd cram a stiletto heel down his throat for stealing those pumps. And her flats! They'd been on sale. She ran faster, determined to get back her property. In the background, she heard Evan's shouts, but the boy was only a few feet away. A large fountain circled by a one-foot brick wall stood in the way of the hooligan and the mall entrance. He ran around children throwing pennies into the fountain. With a wild yell, Callie launched forward and grabbed the kid by the waist. She heard his startled cry as they both crashed to the marbled floor of the mall.
The boy landed on his back, his hat flying off. Callie sat on his chest, her hands twisted into his T-shirt.
"Give me my shoes, kid," she growled.
"Damn, lady! You can have the shoes," he cried, his eyes wide in amazement. "Get the hell off me."
"Police!" Evan's voice boomed as he joined them. He pressed the rain stick against the teenager's chest.
Callie loosened her hands from the thief's clothes as Evan simultaneously helped her up and lifted the kid by the scruff of his shirt.
"Hey man, she tackled me," the teenager yelled. "I was minding my own business. Ask anyone."
Evan looked at Callie. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. He took my shoes," she stated. "There they are." She grabbed the bag that had somehow landed upright. Triumphant, she held the bag up and grinned at Evan.
His look was unreadable, but she realized he was angry. He arrested the teenager, pulling a pair of handcuffs from inside his jacket. He handed the cuffs to Callie, patting down the kid. She saw his grimace as he extracted a switchblade from the thief's front pocket. She felt her heart stop beating as she stared at the polished black handle. She met Evan's hard glance as she gave him back the cuffs, but her insides felt like Jell-O. Two security men arrived and Evan released the boy to their custody. Callie watched as Evan flashed his badge, gave a brief statement of events, and left the matter in their hands.
"Time to go." His words were clipped. He was angry. Her heart began a familiar cadence of pounding, pumping adrenaline along every vein. She wanted to run the minute sunlight hit their faces as they exited the building. Instead, she grabbed the bag, and held onto the strap of her purse.
Neither spoke as they walked to the car. Evan didn't say anything as they got into the Mustang. The snap of fastening seatbelts cracked in the silence. Old reactions encouraged her to cry, to beg forgiveness, but her new-found strength refused to give in to fear. When he didn't start the car, she dared a glance.
His eyes were hard, glittering. "Don't ever pull a stupid stunt like that again. That kid had a knife on him. He could have stabbed you."
She shrugged, even though she wanted to shudder. She hadn't thought about the danger -- she'd only thought about the little creep stealing her stuff. "I've been through worse," she said. "Besides he took my shoes."
"Shoes are replaceable. You are not."
Callie opened her mouth to retort, but Evan started the car and the roar of the Mustang's engine drowned out whatever she might have said. Without looking at her, he backed out of the parking space and maneuvered the car onto 71st street. Realization dawned slowly, brightly. His anger was a result of his fear for her. He cared about what happened to her. She swallowed the words of gratitude. Damn it. When would she learn? She couldn't trust anyone, not even herself. She spent a lot of time justifying Dan's angers and actions. It would all be so easy to get on with her life, if Evan would leave her alone. His constant presence, his ability to make her laugh, his gentle manner all crawled through the cracks of her walls like creeping vines. Soon he would wrap around her heart and she would be trapped, smothered.
"Are you taking me home?"
"You're going to eat. You're too skinny."
"My body size is none of your business," she said, staring at his profile. "I happen to be the perfect weight for my height."
"You're all bones," he said. "You need some meat."
She didn't know whether to be insulted or flattered by his assessment. On the other hand, who the hell cared what Evan thought of her body? "Just take me home."
"No."
"I'll walk."
"No, you won't."
"Watch me."
"Callie, quit being so stubborn," Evan said, tossing her an exasperated look. "Is it going to kill you to eat a sandwich?"
"Yes."
The tires screeched as Evan tore into the parking lot of a chain food store. He roared into a parking space, whipped the car into neutral, and twisted to face her.
She watched Evan try to control his emotions. His nostrils flared and she saw his knuckles whiten as his hand tightened on the gearshift. "All I want to do
is help you."
"Why?"
"What difference does it make? I can protect you. I can fight for you. I can be there for you."
"My knight in shining armor?" she asked softly. "No, thanks. I don't want your help. I just want to be left alone."
"No one wants to be alone," he said, and she thought she heard regret in his voice.
"I do."
His sigh filled the taut silence of the car. "Okay, Callie. Have it your way."
Shifting the car into gear, he drove out of the lot toward the direction of her father's house. He didn't say another word to her. As they pulled into the driveway, she gathered her bag and purse.
"Thank you," she said.
He looked at her, his gaze unfathomable, and said, "Eat something, will you?"
Callie nodded and got out of the car. It took all her self-will not to turn around and watch him leave. She heard the gear shift click then purr of the engine as he backed out of the driveway. She trudged to the door, unlocked it and stepped inside, shutting the door. She dropped the bag and slumped against the wall. Evan had finally honored her wishes and left. She'd gotten what she wanted.
So why did she feel regret instead of relief?
--------
*Chapter Seven*
Misery coated Callie like a light frost. She shivered, settling into the plush chair, and turned another page of the mystery she wasn't reading. At this rate, she'd never finish it.
With a deep sigh, she tossed the book onto an end table. She stood and stretched, feeling the bones in her spine pop satisfactorily. She padded to the large living room windows and looked out into the summer night.
She was restless.
Had it only been a week since Evan had dropped her off at her house? The time felt like years instead of days. He hadn't called. He hadn't showed up unexpectedly. He had disappeared.
As she had requested. She didn't need some nosy cop poking his nose into her business. What she did need was a plan. Her father was recovering, but the doctor refused to release him from the hospital. But if Callie knew Dad, he'd be back in no time, raring to go, ready to get her started into a new life. She'd needed the time she'd spent wandering the States. She'd thought she'd been ready to come home, to face what had happened. Callie looked at her reflection, remembering the face that had appeared in it that stormy night when Evan had come to her rescue. The roar of a car engine drew her attention to the street. Evan? She shoved away the thought. A mint condition '69 Corvette slid smoothly past, slowing in front of the house. Instinctively she stepped back. Her heart skipped a beat and she placed a hand against her throat.
Midnight Intentions Page 5