by Ava Miles
She laughed at his turn of phrase. “Are you telling Evan to make me sign a pre-nup if we decide to get married?”
“Of course,” he said, “but I don’t think he’s listening to me on that one. Or about the non-disclosure agreement. He trusts you—completely. I hope you understand how rare that is for him.”
She hadn’t fully understood until this moment, but perhaps it bore further consideration. “I appreciate you telling me.”
“I hope you’ll come to hear his speech,” Chase said. “Evan may not ask you. He’s still not sure anyone will come, which is crazy, but he doesn’t fully realize his appeal. He never has. I also hope you’ll accompany him afterwards to the reception the university is throwing to commemorate his gift.”
Evan hadn’t asked her yet, and she wondered about that. Then she caught Chase studying her. His pointed gaze answered her question. “Evan doesn’t want to scare me off.”
“No,” Chase said seriously. “And this is only the beginning. You know what he has cooking right now. When it hits, it’s going to surpass anything he’s done. There will be more events. Evan doesn’t like them per se, but he understands now that he has to lead. I can’t be the only one steering the ship for a wizard behind the curtains who’s directing the navigation.”
“I can’t imagine you letting anyone steer your ship.”
“Then you would be wrong.” He crossed his arms as he regarded her. “When I met Evan, I saw a kid who had a vision bigger than anyone I’d ever met. But it was like he was wearing shoes three sizes too big for his feet. He needed time to grow into them. Now, he’s ready. You helped him with that, and whatever you decide, I’m grateful for that.”
His comment squeezed all the air from her lungs. “You’re trying to intimidate me.”
“No, I’m trying to help you visualize how his life will be so you can see if you can have a place in it. He loves you. More than I’ve seen him love anything. Even his inventions.”
Tears popped into her eyes as she remembered all the hurt she’d left in her wake the night he proposed. “I know he does.”
“I hope you’ll make the best choice for yourself,” Chase said, walking to the door. “And that it just happens to also be the best choice for Evan.”
She followed him out to the front of the bakery and unlocked the door. “I’m a little surprised you’re not trying to persuade me.”
“It’s like I told Evan. Why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn’t really like and accept all of them? Evan’s a great man. And you’re obviously a great woman. The unknown is whether you’ll be great together long-term. That’s for you to decide. We both know what Evan wants.”
Yes, he’d made that very clear.
“It was good to finally meet you, Margie. I hope we’ll see you at the speech and the reception. But if not, good luck with everything.”
He was a couple of steps down the sidewalk when she called out his name. “Chase! Thanks for being such a good friend to Evan. He’s… It’s nice to know he has someone like you in his corner.”
His nod was perfunctory, and then he crossed the street to a black Lexus.
She closed the shop, her mind spinning. Going to the speech would be easy. But the reception? She didn’t know if she should go, whether she could go.
Chapter 4
Dating Margie without any of the kissing and touching pretty much had Evan fit to be tied. He’d been short with Chase, who’d flown in for a few days to help out with the arrangements for the center. Of course, his friend had also persuaded the university to allocate one of their top labs for Evan’s private use. Since he felt guilty about the other people who counted on the lab to support their work, he’d agreed to only use it at night while Margie was working at the bakery. Once again, he was trying to mirror her hours as much as possible.
His speech was finished, which was a good thing since he was poised to deliver it in less than a week. Chase told him to practice rehearsing it in front of the mirror, and they’d done a few dry-runs. Being the master of public speaking that he was, his friend had pointed out areas for improvement. Shoulders back. Don’t look at the teleprompter the whole time. Look at the audience as well. Make a connection. And speak from his heart.
Evan’s concern that people wouldn’t attend had shifted. Arthur Hale had interviewed him for The Western Independent, touting the gift as the biggest endowment Dare Valley had received since oil baron Emmits Merriam founded the university in 1960.
More and more people were stopping to thank him when he was out with Margie. It still felt super weird, but it also made him feel good. He was doing something that mattered to the people of this town he’d grown to care about. And even though Margie didn’t act as weird about the accolades now, he could still feel her mulling over whether it was something she could handle in the long-term.
“It won’t always be this way,” he told her one late afternoon as they wandered down the street to have a coffee at Don’t Soy with Me.
Her response—“Don’t be so sure about that, Evan”—had given him cause to think.
When Chase mentioned that Time and Fortune wanted to do an article about his new vision, he had to admit Margie might be right. National and international press would be attending his speech in droves. A gift like the one he’d given Emmits Merriam, coupled with his announcement about creating a high-tech lab cooperative for inventors, complete with seed money to fund their ideas, was major news. Already people were talking on CNN about the impact such an investment could have on the current and future inventors of the world. Everyone knew most of the major developments in the world had come through inventions and innovation.
He felt the new mandate he’d dreamed about anchor more deeply inside him.
And in the dark moments when he was in bed alone, he told himself not to screw it up.
When Margie finished work—usually well after the bakery closed—she would text him after taking a brief nap. So far, they were averaging only two to three hours a day together, but it was all he’d allowed since he insisted she keep to her schedule and go home to sleep at eight o’clock. He had a harder time falling asleep at that hour himself, but he knew it was mostly because he missed her.
He hadn’t asked her to attend the speech or the reception—the speech because it was during the hours of the bakery, and the reception because he hadn’t worked up the courage yet. But that was changing today, he decided, as he greeted another day in Dare Valley with an exquisite cappuccino made by Chef T’s fine restaurant staff.
When she invited him to the Victorian later in the afternoon, he dropped everything he was doing and pretty much rushed over. She greeted him at the door with a beaming smile.
“You’re wearing the yellow dress,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.
Without explicitly talking about it, they’d agreed to allow that much contact between them. She’d initiated it as a way of saying goodnight to him, and he’d followed suit. And they were holding hands sometimes. It still wasn’t near enough.
Leaning in, he caught the scents of cinnamon and fresh baked bread in her hair. His muscles tightened as lust poured through him. It was agony to kiss her on the cheek and do no more, but it was an instructive agony. It had taught him what Degas was trying to convey in his sculptures—sometimes a person willingly endured pain to be close to someone they loved.
“I love this dress,” she said, putting a hand on his chest. “How was your day?”
She was always asking him that, and he found he liked it a little too much. Before, he hadn’t spent his free time with the sort of people who would ask such simple but meaningful questions—or care to hear the answers. “Great! My team made some more progress on that which cannot be named.”
He’d reverted to the Voldemort joke instead of calling it invisible paint, since Chase had been emphatic about him not talking about the invention in a non-secure area. The only place he could talk about it was in his penthouse, which Chase had deemed more secu
re than the lab at Emmits Merriam due to the lack of foot traffic. Of course, he still couldn’t share any real details with her due to the company’s security protocols, but that was okay. So far, he hadn’t sensed any concern on her part.
He needed to make a trip to DC to look at the real samples himself, but he couldn’t bear to leave Margie now. Not when he felt like they were getting closer, like she was starting to become more comfortable with the parts of his lifestyle he wasn’t willing to relinquish.
“I’m happy to hear that,” she said, dropping her hand. Well, she didn’t drop it so much as trail it down his chest, leaving a trail of fire.
He shot her a look to let her know he knew what she was doing. She grinned, the little minx.
“And how was your day, beautiful?” he asked her. He’d started calling her that, and she beamed every time he did.
“Wonderful!” she said, holding her arms up and twirling around. “We sold out of every piece of bread in the store today. By noon. It was epic.”
“Wow!” He loved seeing her this way—so full of light and life.
“The reporters who’ve arrived in town to cover your speech are hungry,” she said, pausing. “And curious about me.”
His protective instincts immediately kicked in. “Is anyone bothering you? Just say the word, and I’ll have…” He stopped when he realized he’d been about to say he’d have Chase handle it. “I’ll deal with it. Just tell me who it was. If you know the name. If not, I can come to the bakery tomorrow and run interference. I don’t want anyone to bother you.”
He could feel himself start to sweat. Jesus, this could ruin everything. She was worried enough about his fortune. The last thing he needed was for reporters to start following her.
“Evan, it’s okay. I just told them we’re friends. I was firm. I know how to be firm.”
Friends. He rolled the word around in his mind. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “Okay. Perhaps that’s better. Maybe they’ll leave you alone.” How was that for a positive spin?
“I can handle them, Evan. Before we go, come inside for a minute. I want you to try something.”
“I thought you weren’t baking anymore after you got home,” he said, giving her a playful nudge in the ribs.
“I didn’t,” she said as she led him into the kitchen. “I saved this last one just for you and brought it home. I thought you might like it,” she said, holding it out to him. “It’s a—”
“Punition,” he finished for her. He took the French cookie from her and bit into it. “Oh, I adore these.” It tasted like Paris, and he kind of got choked up.
“You’re missing your home, aren’t you?” she asked, reading him in that special way they shared.
You’re my home, he wanted to say, but he’d told her that already. Now it was time to give her space so she could decide if he could be her home too.
“I do miss Paris. It’s only natural, Margie. It holds a special place in my heart. Like you do.” Okay, so he’d said something. Sue him.
Her green eyes were watching him, and he saw the shadows in them. “Are you really sure you can give her up?”
He broke his rule and put his hands on her shoulders, the better to gaze deeply into her eyes. “Paris is just a place—one I love and can always visit—but it’s no Margie Lancaster.”
Her face fell, and she let him see the struggle she usually kept from him. “Oh, Evan.”
He couldn’t stand her fear, so he broke his rule and pulled her to his chest. “Hey,” he said, rocking her in his arms. “I thought you knew how much I loved you.”
“But it’s Paris, Evan,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s your home.”
So he needed to say it after all. “You’re my home, Margie. Paris in all her glory can’t compete with you.”
“Will you please, please kiss me?” she whispered, raising her face to look at him. “I can’t stand to be apart from you anymore.”
So, she was experiencing the agony as much as he was. “Only a kiss.” He could handle that, couldn’t he?
But as she rose up on her toes to settle her sweet mouth on his, he wasn’t so sure. She was hot and moist and demanding, as if the separation of their bodies had only heightened her craving for him. He heard the message and answered with his own gentle ferocity, dueling with her tongue and sucking on it until she moaned.
He was fast losing control. He could hear the chains snapping. Pressing back, he stared into her eyes. She was breathing fast, but then so was he. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wild with desire. The roar inside him broke free, and he had to turn his back on her to stop from gathering her up right then and there and taking her against the nearest surface in a rush of heat.
“Give me a moment,” he said. Distantly, over the sound of rushing blood in his ears, he heard her footsteps move into the kitchen and then the opening and closing of the refrigerator door.
A glass of water with ice appeared in his vision, and he took it and downed the whole thing in a few gulps. He pulled on the front of his pants after setting the glass aside. And took a few more deep breaths.
When he turned around, he caught her dabbing the back of her neck with a wet cloth.
“You aren’t the only one suffering here, Evan,” she said softly.
“I know that. But you understand, right?” He crossed the kitchen until he stood in front of her. “What happens between us when we make love—”
“I understand,” she whispered. “It’s the same way for me. I promise…I promise I won’t press you again.”
“Kissing you,” he said, taking the wet cloth and running it down her neck to cool her, “is never a hardship. I don’t want you to think that. It’s a joy.”
“It is for me too,” she said and gestured to the cloth in his hand. “Do you need it too?”
A surprising chuckle escaped his mouth. “Probably. The ice water was a good idea.” Of course, it hadn’t quenched the heat inside him. Only one thing could.
“Shall we…go…or do you want to take a break after…” Oh, the awkwardness in her voice.
“I don’t want a break from you. Unless you need one. It’s okay if you do.”
“I don’t want a break either—even if I do want to jump you right now.”
His mouth tipped up. “Jump me, huh?”
“Just because we can’t be together yet doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it,” she said, and there she was again, his Pocket Venus, the one who called to him in his sleep. “Evan, are you…”
She trailed off, and he took her hand because of the tension in her voice.
“Am I?” he encouraged.
“Are you ever going to ask me to attend your speech at the university or the reception they’re holding for you?”
His eyes narrowed. “How did you know about the reception?”
When she glanced away, he tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes.
“Chase mentioned it. And I know it’s a big deal. A really big deal.”
Both she and Chase had mentioned the conversation they’d had at the bakery, but neither of them had said much else about it. He trusted them, but it still worried him a bit.
“I didn’t ask you to attend the speech because it’s during business hours. And I didn’t ask you about the reception because I was still scared, okay? I didn’t want to rock the boat. I was planning on working up the courage to ask you tonight after dinner, but I might have chickened out if you hadn’t asked about it first.” That he could admit.
“I’m scared to go to the reception too,” she said, looking away for a moment, “but it’s important to you, and I want to try. And as for your speech. Evan, I wouldn’t miss hearing it for the whole world. I’m planning on slipping away from the bakery. I do have employees, you know.”
The aching thud of his heart echoed in his ears. “Delegation is a wise business practice.”
“Evan.”
“Okay, I’m glad you want to be there,” he finally said
, staring into her eyes. “Relieved, even. I want you to be there. Dammit, I want you to be sitting in the seat reserved for the woman I love.” How was that for honesty?
Her hand lifted slowly, and when he didn’t move away, she touched his cheek. “I’ll be there. And I’ll come to the reception with you too.”
He swallowed thickly. “You do realize there will be other people with lots of money there, right? The university has been able to command quite a guest list with this announcement.” Even a few politicians would be attending, not that he’d ever enjoyed meeting any of them. They loved to hit him up for campaign donations.
“Those are the people who attend these types of receptions,” she said, and he heard shades of the girl she’d been in her voice, the one who’d attended them with her parents.
“Be sure,” he said.
“I have to be there. To see. It’s like a test run.”
“You don’t have to go to any of these things for me. I hope you know that. The speech is enough.”
“Evan, if I’m going to be…”
When she paused, he took a breath and said, “My wife.”
She nodded slowly, lowering her hand from his face. “If I’m going to be your wife, I’ll need to go to receptions and parties with you. It’s what a partner does. You’d do the same thing for me, right? I’m sure there will be events for bakers and small business leaders we can attend together. Jill wants me to join the local Chamber of Commerce.”
“I’d go anywhere with you,” he told her. “But if you need more time, we can take it slow. It doesn’t have to be this reception.”
“Evan, if we take this any slower, I may spontaneously combust.”
Since he felt the same way, he decided a little humor was warranted. “That’s an urban myth. The human body cannot spontaneously combust.”
“I love it when you go all geeky inventor on me,” she said with a smile.
He hoped she could one day say, I love it when you go all bold billionaire on me. He wondered if it would ever happen.
“Okay, since we’re rocking the boat, how about we rock it a little more?” he asked.