by A. J. Quinn
Tate watched her for a second or two longer before lowering her head and pressing her lips against the pulse near Evan’s temple. She then picked up a tidbit of cheese and nibbled on it.
Evan grabbed a bite-sized morsel of poached salmon from the tray, dropped it on a cracker, then popped it into her mouth. She sighed in utter contentment. “That’s okay. I’m not sure I can actually do anything right now. You’ve destroyed me.”
Tate laughed. “I meant to. Now have some more to eat. You’re going to need to build up your strength. I have plans for you for later tonight. We need to feed the beast.”
That made Evan grin.
Tate leaned in and teased Evan’s smiling mouth with her own before retreating. Replaced her mouth with a piece of buttered roll, laughing when Evan caught her fingers and licked them clean. Tate’s smile widened in amazement as she fed Evan another morsel.
Good God, Tate had found a way to get her to eat, Evan acknowledged wryly. All she’d needed was a little distraction. Who knew?
They fell into a comfortable silence as Tate continued to feed Evan, finishing off their impromptu meal with the strawberries and chocolate, while the sun dipped closer to the horizon. It wasn’t until she was pouring the last of the wine that she remembered the question she’d wanted to ask earlier.
“Can I ask you about the sketch pad you were working on earlier?”
Evan let out a half laugh of genuine surprise, a startled expression on her face.
Tate raised both brows. “I noticed you were sketching this afternoon. Considering your brother is a renowned artist, I couldn’t help but wonder how strong the artistic gene is in the Kane family. Would you mind if I took a look at your sketch pad?”
“Now?”
“Sure, why not?”
Tate thought she detected a glimmer of uncertainty before Evan got up and retrieved her backpack. Pulling out a well-used sketch pad, she wordlessly passed it to Tate. But she kept one arm wrapped reflexively around her midsection in an obviously self-protective gesture.
It was the only sign of nerves Tate could discern. Still, it was enough to make her hesitate. She searched Evan’s face intently a moment longer and wondered if that was a hint of distress in her eyes, but she received a nod of encouragement. Turning her attention to the sketch pad, she slowly absorbed the mesmerizing quality of Evan’s work.
The sketches began in the hospital in Germany. Tate recognized the faces of the medical staff. The view from Evan’s hospital-room window. Robert and Althea captured in a quiet moment as they leaned into each other.
It was also quickly apparent Evan was good. Very, very good.
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you,” she murmured, half to herself. As she turned the pages, the chronology of sketches moved into more recent times and included views of Puget Sound and the Olympic Mountains. An osprey resting in the trees near the dock.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evan watching her, both arms now folded across her chest. And then Tate found herself staring at her own face, sketched in exquisite detail, making her appear…beautiful. She jerked her head up.
“Jesus, Evan. That’s not—”
“Don’t argue. It’s how I see you.”
Tate swallowed and tried to form a coherent sentence. “Discounting, for the moment, your obviously biased vision, your talent is unbelievable. How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I was twelve.” Evan grinned slightly. “If you’re really interested, I can show you sketch pads covering the last ten years or so. They’re in one of the boxes Alex was storing.”
“If I’m interested? I’d love to see them—wait a minute. Twelve?” Startled, Tate turned to her. “Why have you kept this talent of yours hidden?”
Evan gave her a long, level look before she shifted and looked away. Tate tried but failed to interpret the look. “Don’t feel you have to tell me anything if it’s going to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not that, not really. It’s just awkward explaining it to anyone.” She paused then flashed a wry smile. “When Alex and I were kids, everything seemed to come easy to me.”
“You’re kidding?” Tate grinned at her and Evan rolled her eyes.
“Of course, it didn’t hurt having staff around all the time, hovering, watching. Always ready to report any transgressions, making sure we didn’t cast a negative light on the Kane family name. It was a powerful motivator for me.”
“I can imagine.”
“Alex, on the other hand, never gave a damn about getting anyone’s approval, but for some reason he struggled to find a direction. So when he showed both interest and an aptitude, a genuine talent for art, I pushed mine into the background. I didn’t want anyone making comparisons or saying anything that might derail him. It wasn’t that big a deal to me. It was simply how I relaxed. But to Alex, it quickly became everything.”
Tate touched her lips to Evan’s cheek. “Does Alex have any idea what an amazing sister he has?”
“He’d better.” She managed a faint smile before dropping her head, nestling it in the curve of Tate’s shoulder. “He’s not just my brother—he’s my twin. How could I not do that for him?”
Tate brushed Evan’s bangs back and kissed her forehead. Gently, almost reverently, she brushed kisses over her eyelids, her temples, her cheeks. She kissed her mouth, a mold of lips and tongue that sent desire flaring through her. A moment later, the sleek curve of her throat beckoned and she pressed her mouth there, feeling the pulse beneath her lips.
Raising her head again, she traced a fingertip under Evan’s eye. “You look beat. You should rest for a while. Maybe catch a nap.”
“You keep kissing me like that,” Evan smiled hazily, “and neither of us will ever sleep again.”
“What about touching?” She leaned close once again, her warm breath ghosting over Evan’s ear. “Can I keep touching you?”
“Same thing.”
Tate felt a quiver of response as she ran her hand low over Evan’s abdomen and lost her train of thought. Something about kissing her again. But at some point she pushed past the growing need and remembered the shadows under Evan’s eyes and how fragile she still was.
“God, Evan, I’m sorry. I’m like a kid in a candy store. I’ve absolutely no self-control where you’re concerned, and right now, it doesn’t seem to matter how often you let me have you. I just keep on wanting you until I can’t think of anything but having you again.”
Evan’s breathing wasn’t steady. “Don’t be sorry. Show me.”
*
It might not have started out that way, but it had turned out to be a perfect day. Far beyond anything Tate could have or might have hoped. But a shadow persisted, hovering over them like a storm cloud, and she knew it wouldn’t go away until she did something about it.
“Do you think we could we talk for a few minutes?”
Evan settled back and looked at her. “Does this mean you’re finally going to tell me what’s been bothering you?” She laid her hand over Tate’s.
Tate found herself short of breath at the contact. “I’ve never been good at keeping things from you, have I?”
“I’m shocked and amazed to hear that.” Evan smiled a little, but it quickly faded, leaving a troubled look. “What is it, Tate? Are you worried because of what I told you? About thinking I saw Khalid at the market? Are you afraid I’m losing it?”
“God, no.”
“Then what is it?”
Tate was silent for a moment, then said very quietly, “You’re right that I’m afraid.” She could see Evan watching her in utter stillness. “But it’s not what you’re thinking. I’m afraid because I believe you might have really seen Khalid.”
Evan briefly closed her eyes. “You believe me?”
Tate heard the note of hurt surprise in Evan’s voice and had to force herself to continue when what she really wanted to do was comfort her—and not have this conversation. “Yes, I believe you. And I’m terrified to think
he could have gotten so close to you. I’m scared to death he might try to hurt you again before we can do something to stop him.”
“Why?”
“Why am I afraid or why do I believe you?”
“Both.”
“That’s why we need to talk. There are some things I need to tell you, things I have to explain, but I want you to hear me out before you say anything. Can you do that for me?”
“Okay.”
She was stalling. “I also really need you to understand it was never my intention to upset you or make you angry. But some of what I’m going to tell you will likely piss you off.”
“Tate, it’s not like you to prevaricate.” Evan’s expression grew turbulent. “Are you planning on getting to the point any time soon?”
Nodding, Tate drew in a shuddering breath. “A couple of days ago, a church in Vancouver was firebombed,” she began and didn’t stop until she’d told Evan everything.
She told her about the suspect the authorities had in custody. About his past connection to Khalid. About his arrest as he attempted to reach Port Angeles and her fear Khalid might have done the same, only with greater success. And she told her about Alex’s plan to contact the sheriff’s department.
She folded her arms across her chest and talked until there was nothing left unsaid. Until every thought and fear she’d had was set free. Then she lowered her head and waited for Evan to react.
There was dead silence except for the sound of the waves gently slapping against the hull and the keening cry of the gulls as they circled overhead.
“I’m not sure what you want or expect me to say,” Evan said after a long moment had passed. “If you knew all of this, I don’t understand why you didn’t talk to me. You asked me to be honest with you, but then—”
“I know and I’m so sorry.” Tate swallowed painfully. “I know I’m the one who preached about open and honest communication. Then I got caught up trying to protect you and forgot to talk to you. Forgot to involve you in decisions. But you need to understand, it wasn’t long ago we all thought you were dead and I don’t ever want to go through that again. Not if I can help it. So I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect you.”
Evan raised a brow. “It sure as hell doesn’t sound like you’re all that sorry.”
Her voice was cool, but her expression was fiery. Tate felt her face grow hot knowing Evan was right. “Would yelling at me help?” She waited for a response, but got none. “I can take it, you know. I remember once having to interview your mother when she was in a foul mood over a story I broke in the media. If I survived that…” She thought she saw Evan try to suppress a grin. Encouraged, she reached for her hand. “I really am sorry, love.” A minute drifted by. Then another. Then she heard Evan release a soft breath and felt the knot deep inside her start to come loose.
“It’s all right, Tate. I understand.”
“You’re not angry?”
A flash of heat. “Oh, I’m pissed, don’t think I’m not. But I guess I can understand why you did what you did. I lived with it every day after I woke up in the hospital in Germany and it scared me. Knowing what Khalid did to me. Wondering when he was going to show up to finish things.” She shrugged. “So I don’t have to like it, but I can understand.”
Tate tightened her grip on Evan’s hand. “I can’t bear to think of Khalid getting his hands on you again, hurting you again.”
“Not going to happen, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” she agreed. “Because we’re not going to let him…one way or another.”
“Probably more my way than another, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely.” Tate bit her bottom lip, leaned closer. “Are we okay?”
“Yes, we’re okay.” The gentle response was in total contrast with the wicked grin that appeared unexpectedly. “But if I were Alex, I’d be nervous.”
*
The sun had long since set and the indigo sky was studded with brightly gleaming stars while the moonlight reflected off the water and danced across the boat. Not wanting to go below, Tate had brought blankets out on the deck and was leaning against a stack of cushions and pillows while Evan sat on the floor, reclining in the vee of her thighs. Gazing up at the stars.
Peace slowly seeped into her, and when Tate brought her hands to settle on Evan’s shoulders and began a slow, deep massage, her muscles relaxed and she willingly gave herself over. In mere seconds her head dropped forward, a low moan escaping her parted lips.
“Does that feel good?”
The words were only breathed in her ear, just a whisper of sound. “Mm-hmm,” she mumbled as she sank into the sensual bliss Tate was creating with gentle fingers. She felt her body grow limp even as the energy flowed between them and seemed to crackle in the air.
When Tate finished, it took Evan a minute or two to come back down to earth. And a couple of minutes longer than that before she could begin the other conversation she wanted to have.
“Tate?” With an unsteady laugh, she pulled away from the warm sanctuary Tate provided and ran a hand through her hair as she turned to face her. “I’ve been thinking.”
Something in her voice, probably the indecision or possibly the sudden nervousness had Tate sitting up straight. “Is something wrong?” she asked warily. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Evan answered quickly. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that, lately, staying with you, being with you reminded me of who I used to be, and I realized…that is, it occurred to me we’ve never really dated.”
“Dated?”
“Yeah, dated.” Evan blew out a breath and gave a soft laugh. “Couples do that. I mean, I know we’ve gone skiing in France, been to Amsterdam, and there was that time in Germany, although I don’t know if that counts because I don’t believe we ever left the hotel room. But we’ve never actually…been a couple, planned stuff together. We’ve simply made our own ways and met up wherever we could.”
“Evan, what are you talking about? I always understood why we couldn’t—”
“I know all the reasons. But that was then, this is now, and all those reasons no longer matter.”
“What does that mean?”
“I think”—there was a hint of humor in her voice to match the smile on her face—“I think what it means is I don’t believe I’ve ever taken you out on a real date and I’d like to correct that oversight.”
Tate blinked and tried to speak past the sudden tightening in her throat. “You’re asking me out on a date?”
Evan gave a quick nod. “I’d like to take you out someplace where life is normal. Where people get together to eat good food, drink good wine, and enjoy a good time. I’d like to hold your hand and maybe hold you in my arms while we dance a little. And then I’d like to walk you home and spend the night making love.”
“Oh.”
“So what do you say, Ms. McKenna? Would you do me the honor? Would you go out with me?”
“There’s no one else I’d rather go out with,” Tate responded, hoping her expression showed Evan exactly what was on her mind and in her heart. “Do you have something in mind for this occasion?”
“Actually, I was talking to Alex, and he led me to believe the Harbor House Inn meets all my prerequisites. I was thinking we could go there Friday night. After all, isn’t Friday supposed to be date night?”
“You talked to Alex about this?” Tate’s eyes narrowed. “And what do you mean Friday night? This coming Friday night? As in days from now?”
Evan chuckled at Tate’s aggrieved sigh. “Yes and yes. Why? Did you have something else planned?”
“No. Just answer one question for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Why are we waiting so long?”
Evan laughed. “Anticipation.”
*
He hadn’t intended to go near the house.
It was a mistake, he knew that, but his self-control wasn’t as sharp as it needed to be. As it was, he’d had to force him
self to wait until the cover of darkness before finally moving closer, using the trees surrounding the property as cover.
But as it turned out, he needn’t have worried. The boat wasn’t tied down by the dock and the house stood empty and dark.
Maybe karma and not a mistake, he thought. This would give him a perfect opportunity to check out the surrounding area more thoroughly. Time to plan his next moves like a military mission where reconnaissance, surveillance, and target acquisition were the keys to success.
He tried to stay calm, to quiet his racing heart. But it was difficult. Near impossible. From the moment their eyes had unexpectedly met at the market, he’d been wire tight, filled with anticipation. He could feel his blood coursing hot and fast in his veins, while the recurring fantasy of their next meeting played out in his mind.
He knew she would be feeling uneasy. Anxious. Wondering if he would come for her, when fate would catch up to her. She didn’t know he planned to play with her a little longer.
He wanted her to know it was inevitable, but not when or where or how. Only he would know. Because he had the power. He was in control.
He closed his eyes and savored the possibilities, wondering what it would feel like when she finally looked into his eyes and realized there was nothing she could do to stop him.
Somehow he knew it would taste sweet.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Evan shifted and stared balefully at the narrow shaft of pale light slanting across the room through the partially open curtains. Too damned early, but more sleep was simply not going to happen.
Accepting the inevitable, she gave up trying, taking care not to awaken Tate as she eased out of bed. She could see the day was emerging gray and cool, knew from yesterday’s marine weather reports a storm was brewing somewhere off the coast.