Marriage Under the Mistletoe. Helen Lacey
she asked, mortified, and not quite believing they were having this conversation. Her virtues? How dull and unexciting did that make her sound? “What did she say?”
“Word for word?” he asked, smiling. “That you were likable and generous.”
Definitely dull and unexciting. “Damned with faint praise,” she said, and cradled her mug.
“Not accurate, then?”
Evie laughed. “Oh, I’d say it’s accurate. But it makes me sound old and boring.”
Scott unlinked his hands and leaned back in his chair. “How old are you?” he asked quietly. “Thirty-five? Thirty-six?”
“Six.”
“Which hardly qualifies you for a walker.”
She liked how his words made her feel—liked the slight grin on his face, which teased the edges of his dimple. “I suppose not. But, you know, despite what your sister said about me, I’m not always as nice as people make out.”
“Must be hard living up to the expectations of others.”
Evie looked at him, tilted her head and smiled. “I guess you’d know a bit about that yourself?”
“I would?”
She shrugged and then narrowed her gaze, trying to focus her thoughts into words. “You’re expected to race into burning buildings, climb up trees to rescue kittens and risk your life for people you don’t know simply because of the profession you chose. Sounds like you’ve got the tougher gig.”
“It’s just a job,” he said flatly.
“And you love it?” she asked.
“I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”
“Because you’re addicted to the risks?”
He looked at her a little warily. “Because I took an oath to preserve life and property.”
“Someone else’s life,” she said automatically. “Someone else’s property.”
“You disapprove?” he shot back, sharper, as if she’d hit a button inside him.
Evie took a moment. She took a few steps forward and pulled out a chair. As she sat she considered what she was about to say. She didn’t want to sound irrational—she didn’t want to admit to something and give Scott a window into her fears and thoughts. She’d said too much already.
But suddenly she wanted to say it. She wanted to get it out. The words formed on the edge of her tongue, and before the sensible part of her kicked in, she spoke. “My husband was an Emergency Services volunteer. One night there was a cyclone moving off the coast and he went out to help evacuate the holiday park because the strong winds were overturning trailers and camper vans. He was killed preserving life and property. And I was left to raise our son alone.”
Chapter Four
Scott heard the pain in Evie’s voice, felt it through to the marrow in his bones. It rang in his ears over and over. And his career suddenly loomed like a red flag. Her husband had died serving the community and he knew without a doubt that a firefighter from California didn’t have a chance of being part of her life.
Not that he wanted to get involved...he was just thinking, wondering. And as he looked at her and saw the pain in her green eyes, Scott felt compelled to tell her he was sorry for her loss, but he knew the words would be inadequate.
“You’re angry?” he said, not quite sure where he was going.
She shook her head quickly, as if she knew it was what he’d ask. “It’s difficult to explain. I...sometimes I feel...I feel like...”
“Like what? I’m listening,” Scott assured her when her voice faded.
She met his eyes directly, and his heart knocked behind his ribs. Strange, he thought, watching her, waiting for her to speak. Everything about Evie called out to some kind of inner radar inside him. Despite her outer layer of easygoing friendliness, Scott knew, without being sure how, that she was a complex woman who felt things deeply.
She took a long breath. “I feel like I should have known something was going to happen.”
There was guilt in her words. And Scott knew guilt all too well. “You couldn’t possibly have foreseen the future.”
“I’m not sure. Gordon and I had this connection. It was strong—unbreakable. We always knew when something wasn’t right and when we needed each other.”
His insides heated up. She’d obviously loved her husband deeply. The notion shouldn’t mean anything to him. Strangely, it did. “But?”
She shrugged. “But that night it felt different. The cyclone had been upgraded three times in the twelve hours prior to the evacuation of the holiday park. We were taping windows and clearing the yard of potential flying objects, like garden chairs, when the call out came. He left immediately.”
Scott’s skin prickled. “He left you here alone?”
She shook her head. “No,” she said quickly. “Noah was here. His ex-wife and eldest daughter were away at the time, so he came over to give Gordon a hand preparing for the storm. After Gordon left I went downstairs and sat by the front window, looking out into the dark, listening to the wind and rain.”
“And waiting?” Scott asked, prompting her.
She nodded. “Yes. I waited for hours,” she said quietly. “When he didn’t come home, I knew. I knew before the police arrived. I sensed it. I felt it.” Evie shook her head, as if she were shaking the words out, ridding herself of the memories. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.” She sighed heavily. “I haven’t talked about Gordon’s accident for years.”
“Maybe because you’re always the listener?”
She looked surprised by his question. “How did you know that?”
“It’s not hard to figure,” he replied, toying with his cup, wanting to keep her talking because being around her reached a place inside him that suddenly felt a whole lot more powerful than simply physical attraction. “You run this place—it’s the kind of job that makes you the one who gets to listen to the lives of everyone else. And generally people like to talk about themselves.”
“That’s true,” she said. “Do you?”
He shrugged. “Depends on who’s doing the listening.”
“You’ve got my attention,” she said quietly.
Scott looked at her. “And you’ve got mine.”
The air between them changed again, shifting on some kind of invisible and powerful axis. He knew she felt it as much as he did.
“Which kind of brings us back to what we were talking about before,” she said, smiling fractionally, though he sensed the last thing she wanted to do was smile. “I’m thinking we should just keep a lid on whatever is happening.”
Sex was happening, he thought. Or at least the idea of sex. That’s all it was, surely? But she didn’t want it to happen. And he knew it couldn’t happen. “Sure.”
Evie took a deep breath. “Good. We both agree it’s the sensible course of action.”
He bit back a smile. “Very sensible.”
Scott watched her, fascinated, as her skin flushed beneath his gaze. She really was remarkably sexy. There was nothing obvious about Evie Dunn. But she possessed a latent sensuality that brimmed beneath the surface and it had quickly mesmerized him.
“Do something with me tomorrow?”
She stared at him. “Do what?”
“Sailboarding,” he said easily,