When Love Is True. Joan Kilby
hotly. “I have a great life. A wonderful husband and a beautiful child.”
Suddenly remembering Brianna, she glanced around the room in a panic. Her heart flooded with relief. The baby was playing quietly with her activity center. Feeling her mother’s gaze on her, Brianna looked over and raised her arms to be picked up.
“There you are, pumpkin,” Chloe cooed, gathering her into her arms. “You’re being such a good girl.”
“Unlike her mother?” Evan drawled.
Chloe ignored that and went to the fridge with Brianna still in her arms. “There’s some Chateau Cardboard,” she said, eyeing a box of white wine wedged between the milk and the orange juice.
“Oh, my, you have come down in the world,” Evan teased. “I suppose it’s better than nothing.”
Chloe felt her cheeks flush. “Or there’s Glenlivet.”
“That sounds better,” Evan said. “A couple fingers of scotch ought to cure what ails me.”
Chloe got down the bottle of expensive whiskey with a feeling of misgiving. This was Daniel’s one luxury: he allowed himself a single drink before dinner on the weekends. Still, she couldn’t let Evan think her marriage had dragged her down—although by comparison to his life her surroundings must seem boring and hopelessly provincial.
She tried to put Brianna back on the floor but the little girl cried, so Chloe put her in her high chair and cut her a hunk of the chewy country bread that Evan had brought. “That’ll give your gums a workout.”
Leaving Brianna to eat, Chloe poured Evan a drink. He got up from the table and came into the kitchen, where she handed it to him.
“Come on, you have to join me.” He grinned. “Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb.”
She hesitated for a moment, then with an answering grin and a shrug she sloshed a small amount into another glass. She was just drunk enough not to worry about consequences.
Evan sipped his scotch, leaning against the counter and gazing down at her with an indulgent smile. “How have things been with you? Made lots of friends in this neck of the woods?”
“We don’t have many neighbors yet. The lots haven’t all sold and only one other house has been built so far—that of the man we bought the land from. His wife works, and anyway we don’t have much in common. A fisherman lives down the road, but when he’s not out on his boat he’s in the pub.”
“But you could drive into the city. Visit your old friends?”
“We don’t have a second car,” she explained, adding defensively, “but we will, soon. I’m going to be teaching ballet. I’ve printed up and distributed leaflets.” She stopped herself with a small sigh. “Nothing will happen until school starts in September.”
“A whole month away.” Evan watched her carefully. “Your lumber…Sorry, your husband must be quite something to keep you satisfied out here in the sticks.”
She shrugged unhappily. “He works long hours during the summer, traveling up island and even across to Saltspring Island.”
“Leaving the missus all alone and lonely,” Evan said softly.
“I’m not…” she started, then broke off. She was lonely. But that wasn’t Daniel’s fault. “He has to take every job he can get. Come winter, work will be scarce.” The champagne and the whiskey were making Chloe confused. Did she resent Daniel for having to defend him or Evan for making her see how dull her life was? Daniel had built her this house, but then he’d left her imprisoned like a princess waiting to be rescued.
“Where is he now?” Evan reached out to tuck a tendril of her hair behind Chloe’s ear. “Will he be home soon?”
“He’s in Duncan. He won’t be home for hours.” Chloe held her breath. At the end of the U-shaped kitchen, she didn’t have much room to maneuver. Evan was so close, just a touch away, and so tempting. Gazing into his sky blue eyes, she could easily imagine that she was still in love with him and he with her.
“I’ve missed you, Chloe,” he murmured. “Missed your smile, your touch.” He bent his head, his lips inches from hers. “I’ve been lonely, too.”
Chloe started to strain toward him, then suddenly stopped herself. This was crazy. Her heart beat fast as she backed away, only to find herself hard against the counter. “You’ve been gone two years. You must have had other women.”
“In the camp we were four to a room, with a few fitful hours of sleep a night. Not exactly a romantic setting.”
“In Paris, then.” He was too handsome not to attract women. And what man could resist being pursued?
Right now he was doing the pursuing, edging closer until his hips brushed hers and his hands skimmed her arms.
“Ah, French women—they’re charming and chic.” He captured her hand and kissed the palm. “But we have a connection, Chloe. Our minds work the same way. Our hearts beat as a single unit.” He placed his hand below her left breast. “I can feel your heart beating now, like a small wild bird.”
Chloe licked her parted lips, helpless as that wild bird to stop what was going to happen next. Nor did she want to—she craved Evan’s kiss with a kind of madness. It was all she could think of; the need to feel his mouth on hers, his hands on her body.
She slid her arms around his neck and drew him to her, hungrily tasting his lips, his tongue. So familiar, yet so exotic—a postcard of paradise, remembered and yearned after, finally within reach. The kiss went on and on, erasing her will and replacing it with feverish need. Dimly she heard a clattering, metal on tile, and couldn’t make sense of the sound.
Yet a hole had been torn in the silken sensuality that Evan had wrapped her in. Thoughts of Daniel broke through, flooding her with guilt and regret. What was she doing?
She broke apart and pushed Evan away. “Stop! I can’t do this.”
Afterward, Chloe couldn’t have said what made her glance over at Brianna in her high chair. A mother’s instinct? Guilt, that her daughter should witness her mother betraying her father?
Except that when she did look, Brianna’s eyes were glazed, her face was blue and her mouth wide open in some awful parody of laughter. While Chloe had been kissing Evan, Brianna had been choking on a piece of bread.
Chloe screamed.
Evan reacted instantly, his training overriding his aroused state to thrust Chloe aside and reach for Brianna. He dragged the baby from her high chair and scooped his finger into her mouth. Then turning her over with one hand under her solar plexus, he gave her a sharp rap between the shoulder blades. Nothing happened. “Call 911.”
While Chloe grabbed for the wall phone, he repeated the thump between Brianna’s shoulders, his mind leapfrogging ahead to the possibility of a tracheotomy. Pray God it wouldn’t come to that. He repeated the maneuver a third time, and a chunk of half-eaten bread came shooting out of Brianna’s mouth.
Instead of reviving, however, she lay limp and unresponsive in his arms. He lay her on the counter and loosened her clothes. A finger at her neck found a thin, erratic pulse, but her color was still cyanotic. How long had she been without oxygen while he and Chloe had kissed? Guilt played no part in his calculations; becoming emotional would only impair his ability to treat the child.
He bent to cover Brianna’s mouth and nose with his own mouth and breathed lightly. Counting, one, two, three. Again, one, two, three. And again. Come on, darlin’. Yet even as he calmly proceeded to work at resuscitating her, his thoughts ran wild on a parallel track. Brianna could be his daughter. Why had he thrown away his chance with Chloe? If Brianna lived, he would change; he’d settle down. He would—
Brianna coughed. Her small lungs heaved and shuddered. Her skin began to turn