Chapter Two
It had taken him over a month to think up his ploy and implement it, and that had only come after about eight weeks of what probably bordered on stalking.
When he’d started, it had been unseasonably hot even for August, and Eva had cooled the room in sleeveless white. Now it was cold enough outside that when she answered the doorbell for their date, she was already shrugging her way into a cream-colored overcoat. Cashmere, Drew thought as he automatically reached out to help her find the sleeve. Her hair caught in the collar when she settled the coat on her shoulders, and he had to resist the temptation to work the silky strands free when she turned to lock her door.
It was all chilly cordiality at first. But then she threw him a dark look when he took his seat after handing her gallantly into his car.
“Hieronymus Bosch. I can’t believe I didn’t think of Hieronymus fucking Bosch. It was so obvious.”
Drew thought she must be really pissed off if she was dropping the F-bomb. He’d never heard her curse before. On the whole, he didn’t mind it one bit. “Well, you know. Everybody has their areas of expertise. Nobody can know everything.”
The glare she shot him was venomous but heavily laced with amusement. “It wasn’t even a question about art, it was a question about punk music. I never claimed to know a thing about punk music.”
“I don’t really know much about either one,” Drew admitted with a shrug. “But I had this roommate in college who loved that band, and he had a poster of the painting on the wall over his bed. The Extraction of the Stone of Madness. The guy was kind of an asshole, actually.”
“He left you with an appreciation for art, at least. Or maybe just punk?”
Drew smiled. “Not exactly. I mean the band was okay, but the painting creeped me out. I mainly remembered it because there was a guy in it with a funnel on his head, kinda looked like the Tin Woodman.”
“You don’t know anything about art.” It was a statement, not a question. She didn’t sound that surprised. Drew was glad to hear she didn’t sound particularly upset about it, either.
“I know some. I know about photography. And hey, I knew enough to get you to go out with me, right?”
Eva’s silvery laugh was unexpected. It curled around Drew, a slender ribbon of temptation, almost making him miss his turn. “A sucker bet. Your one piece of art trivia, and you caught me. Now I’ll know to be on my guard.”
The topic of their mutual friends didn’t arise until later, when the meal was almost over.
“I thought the Boy Scout thing was a joke,” Eva said with surprise when Drew revealed how far back he and Danny went.
“Nope. And yes, before you ask, I did get a merit badge for knots.”
“I didn’t need to ask.” She lifted her glass to him and took a sip before continuing. “You do beautiful work.”
Drew shrugged. “Aw, shucks, ma’am. Glad you think my knots are purdy.”
“You don’t seem like a lot of the…the people Danny and Sheila know.”
“Well, they hang out with a lot of artists. I’m not really in that business.”
She frowned. “True, but I wasn’t really talking about the art crowd.”
Leaning forward, Drew murmured dramatically, “You mean the evil, bad, kinky sex crowd?” His corny wink made her smile, even as she blushed at his words.
“Of course there’s quite a bit of crossover,” she acknowledged.
“With their friends, at least, yeah. That’s also partly due to the subject matter of their art. It does tend to draw a certain demographic. The evil, bad, kinky sex crowd demographic.”
“Are you in that demographic?”
Drew was startled by that. By the direct question, by the suddenly dispassionate gaze she leveled at him with those very pale blue-gray eyes.
“That’s a deal-breaker for you,” he said, feeling a hint of anxiety as the knowledge broke.
After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.”
Drew couldn’t help thinking she looked sad. Recalling her obvious—at least obvious to him—reaction to being tied up, he wondered what her history was. He was distracted from pursuing it, however, when the waiter returned with his credit card. It wasn’t until they were safely in the car again, pulling away from the curb, that he returned to the subject.
“So I have a question for you. About your deal-breaker.”
“All right.” The wariness in her voice warned him to tread lightly. “You never answered my question, actually.”
“I know. When we were at that party, when I tied you up, I heard the comments about how you weren’t into that. But I was right next to you. I could feel your pulse under my fingers. I could see your reaction. And it was not the reaction of a girl who wasn’t into it.”
“Oh?” From wary to frosty in nothing flat.
“I’m just curious. It didn’t add up.” Eva had turned so cold he was tempted to crank the car heater. Drew figured he had nothing more to lose at that point. Might as well go for broke. “You say you’re not into it, but you surround yourself with it. You run a private art gallery in a small town. You could hardly find a more vanilla setting, but you invite a fair number of artists you know are involved in BDSM whether it’s reflected in their art or not. As far as I can tell, you’re good friends or at least close acquaintances with practically everybody in the local kink community. You agreed to let yourself be tied up for that photo, and it was glaringly obvious you enjoyed it. In that way. So what’s up, Miss Godfrey? What’s your deal?”
A few seconds of pained silence later, he chanced a glance over at Eva. She was still staring at him in shock, eyes wide as saucers. Her lips parted slightly, and Drew had to drag his eyes back to the road before he could become distracted. He’d had a sudden, almost overwhelming urge to kiss the look right off her face. To warm her up, lips first.
Crap. I should apologize.
“Um. Look, I—”
“Did it ever occur to you,” she said in a tiny, strained voice, “that I might have had a bad experience?”
He didn’t even look this time, just started glancing toward the shoulder, searching for a place to pull over. Eva didn’t comment. She sat and stared as he eased over to the side of the road and brought the car to a halt.
“I am so, so sorry,” he started, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture of her hand.
“Don’t!”
He caught her hand and held it in both of his, taking his seat belt off and turning to face her.
Then things got confusing for a while.
Drew remembered the sensation coming over him again, of needing to kiss her, of wanting to fold her into his arms. He remembered the shine of tears, and then the thing that was his undoing, the tiniest tremble of her lower lip. It was pink. It looked soft.
It tasted like wine and apple pie a la mode. Which, Drew decided, was the exact taste of heaven. When he laced his fingers through her hair, he was surprised at how warm she was. Surprised, too, when she tugged at his shirt, pulling him closer, angling her head back and making a sweet offering of her mouth. He took it, curling his tongue between her lips, nibbling and sucking until he fell into a happy delirium of frustration and delight.
When they finally broke apart, he noticed her lip was no longer trembling, although his hands seemed to be. They were framing her face. When had that happened? Eva’s hands were entwined in the fabric of his dress shirt. She wasn’t crying anymore.
His cock was straining to get closer to the source of the happiness, and Eva looked so flushed and breathless and mussed all of a sudden. It was mind-blowingly hot. His lips moved faster than his conscience.
“I’m not in that demographic.” It was more than half a lie, and he was old enough to know he was stupid to say it.
She stared at him for a few seconds then her gaze flicked away to the window. “I need some fresh air. Do you mind?”
“What? Oh. Not at all.”
He nearly ran around the car in his haste t
o open her door, as eager as a teenager on his first date. And suddenly feeling about as unlikely to get past first base, judging by the wave of shyness that appeared to sweep over Eva when he offered his arm.
It had started to snow, a light fall of powdery white. The night was crisp, and very cold. They had parked near one of the university’s two large fountains, and the soft splash of water was a strange contrast with the silent snow.
“I know, I know,” Eva said as she brushed the fine, powdery stuff from the creamy cashmere of her overcoat. “Now I look like a real, live ice princess.”
“Not even close to what I was thinking.” Drew reached over and carefully scooped a dusting of snow from the edge of her scarf before it could melt against the skin of her neck.
“Then what were you thinking?” she demanded. She tilted her head—whether to avoid his fingers or give him better access, he wasn’t sure. He thought maybe she wasn’t sure, either.
“I was thinking you looked like a real, live snow angel.” He smiled and then kissed her before she could formulate a protest, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her closer to put her off balance.
He could feel her breath, as rapid and shallow as it had been that night he tied her wrists around Brandon’s neck. She was turned-on. She wanted this. She wanted him. And God knew he wanted her. Had walked around for nearly three months semihard and hurting for her, despite her obvious reticence. Just kissing her, and a fairly innocent kiss at that, was enough to make his pants uncomfortably snug.
Cautiously, he shifted his hands, one sliding around Eva’s slim waist to draw her closer still, the other cupping the back of her neck lightly as he deepened the kiss. Tasting her, all softness and heat and unexpected willingness. Her tongue was soft as velvet against his. When she finally, hesitantly, began to kiss him back, Drew had to restrain himself from moaning. With all the control he could muster, he let Eva set the pace for a time. She explored his mouth with excruciating patience, learning each curve and slide of his lips and tongue against hers. Her hands, still balled in clenched fists against his chest, never moved. Almost as though she was holding back too.
The suspense, the tension, became almost an end in itself. Drew realized they were torturing themselves and each other but also feared what might happen if he raised the stakes. It felt almost like a magic spell, this equilibrium between them, something that could be broken all too easily by one wrong move.
Except that the next move was Eva’s. She shifted her hands without warning, tugging Drew closer by the neck, suddenly plunging her tongue into his mouth and pressing herself against him with an enthusiastic whimper.
Then, as abruptly, she pushed him away and stumbled back a few steps, wiping a shaky hand across her mouth.
“Eva, I—”
“That was—”
“Sorry, go ahead.”
“No, you go.”
Drew couldn’t remember what he had started to say. Now, seeing her flushed cheeks and kiss-reddened lips, so bright against the paleness of her skin and the snowy backdrop, he was dumbstruck. She was too beautiful, too breathtaking to talk to. A snow angel, as he’d said.
“I really didn’t want you to stop then,” he finally blurted, honesty bubbling to the top under pressure. “Or, you know…ever.”
“It was a bad idea,” Eva said, as though he hadn’t spoken. “Really. I don’t know what got into me.”
My tongue? Drew thought, but was smart enough not to say.
“I thought it was a really good idea. Whatever got into you had exactly the right idea, and you should let it back in there.”
“Let what back in there,” she asked with an arch look, “your tongue?”
At least I wasn’t the one to say it.
“For starters.” He stared her down, willing her to stop reassembling the chilly shell she seemed determined to draw around herself. Her protective covering. For a minute there, she hadn’t acted like a girl who wanted or needed protection.
“Then what? You take me home, we throw caution to the wind?”
“You say that like it’s unheard of. People have been known to do that sort of thing.”
The wind was picking up, and a flurry of snow skittered across the lawn and around their legs.
“I don’t do that sort of thing,” Eva said firmly.
“How about after the third date? Would you do it then?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The night is still young, Miss Godfrey. I just took you on our first date, and it’s barely nine o’clock. So now, after a brief stop at your place so you can put on some warmer clothes, I am going to take you on our second date.”
Eva’s upper lip curved as though she was trying to keep from smiling. “Isn’t that an extended version of the first date?”
“No,” Drew said with much more confidence than he felt, “not if I take you home and you change outfits in between.”
“Okay. Assuming I accept that, what makes you think I’ll agree to a second date with you, just like that? Much less a third. I only went out with you in the first place because I lost a bet.”
“And it still stings, doesn’t it? But the dinner was pretty good, I think. And besides, you’ll come with me this time because you’re curious now.”
She regarded him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Drew found he was holding his breath.
“All right,” she said at last. “Impress me.”
Chapter Three
“Are you out of your damn mind?” Eva asked, not for the first time since they had started the climb. “How is this legal? This cannot be legal!” She gripped the iron rungs firmly, and Drew noticed she was actually having no trouble with the ascent up the spare, metal scaffold.
“Wanna bet?” he called up to her over the singing wind.
“Not particularly,” she retorted. “Not now that I know you only make loaded bets.”
“I’m more risk-averse than I let on,” Drew corrected her. “I only like to bet on a sure thing.”
“Death and taxes, Mr. Brantley,” Eva reminded him. “The only two sure things.”
“You sure are good with the light banter,” he said, slightly winded with the effort to keep up with her. “Jesus, how fit are you? You’re not even out of breath. Here, take that ladder to the right, next.”
From the narrow catwalk they crossed to the next ladder, the last leg of their climb. Drew’s hands were chilled to the bone despite his insulated ski gloves, and he could only imagine Eva had to be even colder, slender as she was. He admired her for not complaining. Almost as much as he admired her for the extremely fine rear view she presented as she climbed nimbly up the ladder above him. Her parka only came down to mid-hip, and the jeans she had changed into were strategically faded. God, he loved it when jeans were strategically faded. Not that the ass in question needed any highlighting to look stunning.
“Almost there,” he reassured her with a shout.
Then they were there, Eva hitting the top platform with a visible sigh of relief and Drew crowding up the ladder behind her.
“Okay, now don’t turn around yet. And close your eyes.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she grumbled, but gripped the back rail on the narrow ledge they were standing on, squeezing her eyes shut.
Carefully, Drew turned her around by the shoulders and then slid his hands down her arms to help her find the front rail. He pulled his hands back only as far as her waist, telling himself it was to help steady her, and that the two or three inches of down padding in her parka covered everything really interesting anyway.
“Okay. Tilt your head back a tiny bit and open your eyes.”
He tried to see it as Eva would be seeing it, for the first time. The panoramic view of the surrounding farmland, silver in the light of the sinking half-moon, and then the infinity of stars overhead. The cold front had passed, leaving only fresh snow on the ground and a bit of ice in the newly clear air. They were just far enough away from any severe light pollutio
n that the lights of the night sky could be seen in all their sparkling glory.
“Oh…” she whispered, and then let her head drop back against his shoulder as she took in the astonishing view. Each star, crisp and clear as if seen in a textbook, something one couldn’t see in Indianapolis or even in the middle of a small suburban town.
After a few minutes of silence, which Drew hated to break, he bent close to Eva’s ear—the bottom half, with a delicate pearl earring she’d been wearing since the beginning of the evening peeking from beneath her black, fleecy ski cap.
“Let me know when you get too cold,” he murmured.
“I was already too cold when we started,” she admitted. “But it was worth it. This is beautiful.”
“Did I impress you?”
Eva laughed. “Yes, you impressed me.”
“You want to see something else impressive?”
“Please tell me that isn’t a double entendre. Okay, what?”
“This way.” He pulled her by one hand down to the opposite end of the platform, to a door Eva hadn’t seen before, apparently leading into the dome-like structure they had climbed.
“I thought this was a water tower or something,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “In the dark, you know.”
“Nope. Observatory. We didn’t exactly come in by the front gate.” He opened the door to reveal a round room occupied by two bespectacled astronomers and the biggest telescope Eva had ever seen. The sliding roof was open a wedge, but a space heater warmed the desk area somewhat.
“Brantley! Where you been, man?” The younger of the two men greeted Drew warmly with a handclasp and a slap on the shoulder. “And who have we here? Good evening,” he said, dropping his voice and shifting gears instantly when he got a good look at Eva. “Welcome to the Brantley-DeWitt Observatory Facility. I’m Dr. Davis, and if there is anything I can do to assist you while you’re here, anything at all, please don’t hesitate—”
“Yeah, yeah, she’s got it, Ed,” snarked the older scientist. He nodded at Eva from his seat at the view screen for the giant scope. “Ma’am.”
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