by Leslie North
With a crooked smile, Antonio touched her cheek. “You’re all grown up, zouzouni mou.”
Eva bit the inside of her lip. Tears stung her eyes. Tonio had not called her ‘my little bug’ in a long time. But she wouldn’t cry. No. She wasn’t a kid now. She punched his arm. “I’ll call you so much you’ll hate the phone bill.” She took a breath and turned to Callum, who had been staring out at the plane, his hands in his pockets.
Antonio walked over to him and shook his hand. “You’ve earned your pay, putting up with this one. Everything we discussed is in place. Look after Eva for me.”
Callum nodded, but Eva thought his smile was forced.
Tucking her arm into his, Eva headed for the plane and the long flight to New York.
***
The pilot announced their pending arrival over the speakers. Callum had tried to sleep during the flight, but he was too aware of Eva. While he stretched out in one of the reclining leather chairs, she moved around the plane, staring out the windows, reading, fixing light meals or hot tea. He kept his eyes closed but he always knew where she was. She’d settled at last next to him.
He sat up and glanced over at Eva. She sat with her head to the side and one hand tucked under her chin. Like this, she looked more like a kid. With a fingertip, he moved her hair back from her face. She didn’t stir.
God, she was beautiful.
She had a strong nose and dark lashes that fringed out just now. Her olive skin seemed perfect—a flawless dark honey. He brushed a finger over her cheek. It was just as soft as he’d thought.
Wetting his lips he called to her, “Eva?”
She scrunched her face up in protest. He called her name again and said, “We’re getting ready to land. You need to get your seatbelt on.”
She muttered something and shifted. Callum’s stomach lurched as the plane dropped. Cursing under his breath, he reached around her to get her seatbelt fastened. His arm brushed her breast. She stirred with a soft moan. Callum pulled in a sharp breath. He fumbled with the seatbelt got it clicked into place. His mouth hovered close to Eva’s—another inch and he would be kissing her.
She turned and her breath brushed his face—a soft exhale. She’d worn jeans and a button-up top that gapped just enough that he could see the lacey edges of a pink bra. His throat tightened. He brushed a finger along her jaw. “Eva.” Dammit, that word had come out with need and a lot of other things he couldn’t let out.
Eva’s dark eyes blinked open. She smiled. Callum leaned back, but she stretched and he couldn’t help but watch her breasts strain against her blouse. He wanted her—badly. He glance away, forcing himself to look out the jet window. “Almost here.”
The lights of New York had come on in the darkness, and the city twinkled, bright and beautiful. Eva rubbed her eyes and leaned across him to stare out the window. Callum bit back a groan.
“Oh, look, the Empire State Building—it’s so pretty.”
Callum tried counting to ten in Greek—he’d picked up only a smattering of the language. His words came out in a rushed breath. “I thought we’d take a taxi over and see my folks and then I’ll get you settled into the hotel.”
“Oh, Antonio will have a car waiting for us. He thinks of everything—well, almost.” Eva stretched again. Callum couldn’t help staring. Smiling at him, she asked, “What time is it here again?”
“About nine at night.” He forced the words out. His jeans had gotten very tight suddenly.
“Good, it’s almost time to go back to bed. I can’t believe how tired I am.”
Callum bit off another groan. Eva—in bed. That wasn’t the image he wanted to have right now. He started babbling, talking so he wouldn’t grab her and kiss her the way he wanted to. “It’ll take a few days before your body adjusts to this time zone, but getting plenty of sleep should help. My mom should be home.”
“You sound so certain.”
You look so lovely. Callum stopped the thought. The plane bounced down on the tarmac. Callum unbuckled and got out of his seat, heading for the bathroom. A piss and some cold water and he’d be able to face the world. And Eva. And he couldn’t wait to get her locked up in her own hotel room and get himself back under control.
Chapter 11
The town car stopped at the curb of the building where his folks kept a loft. The old brownstone building didn’t look like much from the outside, but the neighborhood was a good one. Callum shot out of the car before the driver could open the door. He turned to the driver. “We won’t be too long.”
Eva got out of the car, glancing around like a real tourist. Callum headed up the steps of the building and rang the intercom. He smiled when his mother’s voice came on, asking who it was.
“Hey, mom. Want to ring me in?”
“Callum?” His mother lifted with delight. She loved surprises and the unexpected. His dad didn’t, but Dad could always be talked around.
“You going to make me stand outside all night?”
She gave a shout and the door buzzed open.
“Sounds like she’s happy to see you,” Eva said.
Callum pulled open the door. “Prepare yourself for a lot of fussing.”
They took the elevator up two floors. The doors opened into a small hallway. His mom waited with the apartment door open. She’d gotten more gray in her dark-blonde hair, but the silver looked good, like elegant highlights. That was his mom—elegant. She kept her figure trim with walking and yoga, and her bright blue eyes sparkled. She held out her hands. “Callum, what are you doing here? I thought you were still in Greece?”
Callum took his mother’s hands and kissed a scented cheek. She hated for her men to mess up her makeup. “Eva’s going to visit the University of Delaware, so I’m here to help her get settled.” He stepped back. “And this is Eva.”
His mother glanced at Eva—a very quick assessing look, and Callum almost wanted to say, ‘No, I’m not marrying her.’ His face warmed. His mom had been trying to set him with ‘the right young woman’ for years. With a warm smile, his mom took Eva’s hand with both of hers. “Call me Martha, everyone does. Now come in. Stanley, come and meet Eva.”
“Stanley?” Callum blurted out the question. Callum looked at his mom. “What’s Stanley Drake doing here?”
Stepping into the loft, Callum saw Stanley Drake stand up from the dinner table. The apartment hadn’t changed. Dark woodwork, open space—his father, Gerald, had done most of the remodeling, and plush furniture in floral patterns to match his mother’s taste.
Callum gave Drake a nod. The guy had on his captain’s uniform and his NYPD badge gleamed on his chest. “What’s he doing here?”
His mother gave him a stern look. “Mind your manners. Gerald decided he wanted to spend more time in Tibet, and I was ready to come home—I’m really tired of all the traveling. So we’re trying out some ‘us’ time for each of us.” She smiled at Stan. “Stan’s here at my invitation.”
Callum opened his mouth and closed it again. Us time? What the hell was that after thirty years of marriage? He nodded at Drake. “Hey. Eva, this is Captain Stanley Drake of the NYPD. He and my dad worked together.”
She glanced at him. “You’re father’s a policeman?”
“Retired after nine-eleven,” Callum said. He knew he sounded terse—hell, he even felt terse with his shoulders knotted up around his ears somewhere.
Stan gave a nod and sat down again. His mom had obviously served up a late dinner and remnants of it littered the table, along with two empty bottles of wine. Tension crackled in the room, but Callum was at a loss about what to do. Was this two old friends having dinner, or something else? Did he even want to know?
Stepping in, Eva took over. She asked about the antique furniture and the photos. She accepted an offer of wine and sat down. She was soon laughing and talking as if she’d known his mom—and Stan—for years. Callum wasn’t sure how she did it, but she smoothed over any awkwardness as if it didn’t exist, swapping stories about Greec
e for stories about his dad on the police force.
After forty minutes—Callum timed it on his watch—Eva stood. “Callum has to get me checked into my hotel. And I should let you finish your evening. Besides, our driver is probably tired of waiting.”
Stan swapped a stare with Callum’s mom. “Driver is it?”
Eva stood and tucked her arm into Callum’s. “My brother insisted on hiring a car while I’m here. And I don’t think Callum wants me trying the subway.”
“Hell no,” Callum muttered. His mom stood so he kissed her cheek, waved to Stan and headed for the door.
Before he made it, his mom called out, “Let’s meet for breakfast. We should show Eva around a little.”
“That would be lovely,” Eva said. “Nine at the Waldorf?”
Callum closed his eyes and opened them again. He couldn’t breathe. He had to get out of there. Once outside, he leaned against the wall and looked at Eva. “Breakfast? Seriously?”
She smiled. “It won’t be so bad.”
Callum choked out a laugh. “No, more like barely passable. Come on. I need to get you to the hotel.”
They headed down to the car. Eva slipped inside and Callum followed her, his head still spinning. What was up with his parents? Was it any of his business? And now he had breakfast plans. He could only hope Stan wouldn’t be able to make it.
The city slipped past and he barely notice. The limo pulled up in front of the Waldorf Astoria, with its art deco grandeur and gilt sign. A doorman opened the door for him, and Callum realized he was getting a little too comfortable with people looking after him. He needed to get back to his own life—but not right now. Not tonight.
He headed inside, and he let Eva take the lead. Her brother had made the reservations, after all. The lobby offered up a ton of marble, a bronze clock, and everything screamed money, Callum thought. Not just a bellhop, but the hotel manager came out to greet them and show them up to their rooms. Callum drifted along behind Eva, feeling more like an accessory to her—one of her bags maybe.
Upstairs, deep carpets greeted them. The noise of the city faded away and the hotel manger unlocked their rooms and gave them keys. Callum headed into his room and switched on the light.
More thick carpets and thicker drapes. The room came with a sitting room, bedroom, and a bath that could have served as someone’s apartment. The décor looked expensive and tasteful—beige walls, rich reds and golds for the overstuffed chairs, sofa and the drapes, a lot of polished wood for the furniture, and gilt-framed art on the wall. Real art, not just cheap copies of stuff. The sitting room even had a fireplace, and Callum felt more than lost.
His mom had turned his world upside down—no, make that his mom and his dad, since they both seemed in on the changes they’d made. He was actually missing Athens and Greece—it was cold as hell in New York this time of year, and he hadn’t dressed for it. Jet lag was eating at him and he stood with his hands in his pockets and loneliness washing over him.
A scrabbling from a side, connection door had him turning. He walked over and opened the door.
Eva stood in the doorway, smiling at him. “Want a drink? I’ve ordered room service.”
He nodded. He didn’t know what he wanted other than to not be alone with his thought right now. And Eva…Eva looked like a warm, safe place. He followed her into her suite—she had a bigger sitting room, a TV in a wardrobe that Eva had put on to a music station. Soft jazz drifted into the room.
Callum sat down on the plush sofa. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I should even do anything.”
“Your mom?” she asked. She sat down next to him. The next moment a knock sounded on the door. Eva got up to answer it and room service rolled in a table. They laid out dinner on the table—Eva’s suite boasted a full dining room with a chandelier, wood floors and paneling, and an elegant carpet in blues and gold. The room service staff set out full linen, silverware, glasses, china…the works.
Callum smelled the familiar aroma of good pizza—sauce and spices—and lifted his head. “Pizza? New York pizza?”
Eva shrugged and sat down in one of the high-backed chairs. “I thought I should try it so I had the hotel go out to get what they thought was the best.”
The waiters left beer on the table, smiled and left. Callum stared at the sausage cooling in a pool of oil on the thin, flat crust. Pizza—on linen. Well, why not. The cheese looked done to gooey perfection. Eva waved at the chair next to her. “Sit and eat. Gaia always makes us eat whenever we get news, good or bad. She says the good you have to celebrate and the bad can wait until you have a full stomach.”
He laughed and sat down. “I’m going to miss her.” He sat down and they dug into the pizza. When it—and a six pack—had been demolished, Callum leaned back. Eva had tomato sauce on her cheek. He gestured to his face. “You have some sauce.”
Eyebrows lifted, she rubbed the spot and missed it. Shaking his head, Callum leaned over and wiped his thumb over the spot, catching the corner of her mouth. Her eyes darkened, went soft.
He stared into her eyes—was he really seeing the desire he wanted to see there. He let his hand slide down the side of her jaw to cup her neck and leaned closer. The table wasn’t that big. Her mouth opened slightly.
A kiss. Just one kiss. What could one kiss hurt?
He leaned closer to her. Exhaustion dragged at him, and beer spun in his head, but he hadn’t had so much to drink that he didn’t know what he was doing. His world had been shaken, but Eva was here. Eva who was so much more than he’d ever thought. Eva who might not be able to solve a math equation to save her life, but who knew how to smooth over a tense situation. Eva of the dark eyes and the tempting mouth.
Leaning in, Callum gave up the fight and kissed her.
Chapter 12
His lips were soft. Soft and questioning and demanding. Eva fell into the kiss. She opened her mouth and let him explore. He tasted of beer and tomato and something that was just the taste of Callum. His hand stayed on her neck, his touch warm and safe. She didn’t want the kiss to stop, but her back was starting to protest the awkward position.
Pulling back, she stood, came over and sat down in his lap. Callum’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but she put a finger on his lips. “It’s just a kiss. A few kisses.” Then she leaned over and kissed him, letting her hair shadow his face and fall around them.
He tasted so good. Of spices and warmth. He tasted like a slice of heaven. She wrapped her arms around him and kept kissing him. His hand came up to touch her breast, a soft caress that had her catching her breath. His thumb rubbed over her nipple and she could feel wetness gathering between her legs. She leaned into him, pressing against him, feeling just how much he wanted her—he was hard against her thighs. She wrapped her fingers into his hair. He brushed her nipple again.
And then he took hold of her arms and pushed her back. “Time for bed.”
She smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is.” Getting up, she went to the connecting door and held it open. His pupils snapped from wide to pinpoints, but he got up, smoothed his jeans and headed into his room. Eva shut the door and leaned against it.
It had cost her everything to make him leave—but she wanted him begging for her. No…she wanted him crawling to her. Yes, that would do nicely. She wasn’t done making Callum Woods suffer. Meantime, she was wet and aching. She unzipped her jeans and put a hand down into her underwear. Thinking about Callum’s kiss—about his mouth on hers, about his hand on her breast—she started to rub the hard nub between her legs. That was one thing about going to an all girl’s school—you learned how to pleasure yourself, you learned what every girl and woman wanted from a hand between the legs or a mouth on your clit.
Closing her eyes, Eva thought of Callum kneeling before her, begging, crawling to her. She rubbed harder, pushed two fingers in and smiled as the warmth spread through her. And she hoped Callum would be dreaming of her tonight.
***
Cal
lum stripped, took a cold shower, and fell into bed. But he was still hard and he had Eva’s perfume in his nose. She kissed like a siren—and that’s what she was, one of those temptresses from Greek legend. She could lure a man to his doom. He kept telling himself that. She’s Antonio’s kid sister. She’s a woman who can kill you with a kiss. She’s a kid—but that idea was dead and would not come back to keep him comfort. He could still taste her on his lips. He’d wanted to unzip her jeans and pulled them from her long legs. He’d wanted to see her naked—without even one of those skimpy bikinis she liked.
He palmed a hand over himself and pulled hard. He needed something to get his mind off Eva, but he kept going back to how soft her skin was, how her nipples had hardened from just a graze of his thumb. He jerked off thinking about her, wanting it to be her he was plunging into and not his fist. It helped, but not much. He drifted off thinking about Eva—about how he shouldn’t kiss her again like that, and wondering if she’d go for a fantasy of naughty schoolgirl and stern teacher.
The phone rang way too early with a wake-up call. He listened to the voice inviting him to have a wonderful day and groaned. He had breakfast. And Eva was going to go with him—she’d been the one to agree with his mom about that very bad idea.
He grabbed the robe the hotel had provided, and knocked on the connecting door. She opened the door. She had on a robe that matched his. And it wasn’t belted that tight. His fingers itched with the urge to open it—to put his hands on her.
She smiled at him, leaned against the doorjamb and pushed a hand into her sleep-rumpled hair. “Morning.” His throat dried. Her voice sounded sexy and sleepy. He wondered what she’d look like after sex, with her skin warm and roughened from his beard. She smiled. “Aren’t you going to kiss me?”