Blush Duo - Marriage Under the Mistletoe & The Christmas Inn (5 page)

Something whirled between them. Her skin prickled with awareness, her breasts felt heavy and sensitive and they pushed against the safety vest. It was as if her body had suddenly taken on a life of its own, betraying her, laughing at her.

“Come on,” he said quietly, tipping his attention back to the board and forcing Evie to pull her thoughts away from having a deep lip-lock with the gorgeous man in front of her. “We don’t want to waste this wind.”

Evie followed him to the water’s edge. And he was right—it was a good day for it. The wind was up, but the water was enticingly warm. There were a few people on the beach, some swimming, a young couple playing fetch with their dog and a stick and a trio of teenagers burying each other in the sand.

Scott explained the board and sail and how to position her feet, and Evie was agonizingly aware of his close proximity. But he was a good teacher. He was patient and considerate and didn’t push her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Her first attempts were disastrous, dumping them both in the water every time. But after a while she managed to maintain some balance and work the sail. She felt him behind her, felt his arms touch hers every time she maneuvered the sail to catch the breeze, and felt his chest against her back as he supported them on the narrow board.

He’s really something else,
she thought vaguely. The little voice in her head—the one which had been taunting her for the past two days, continued its assault. She wobbled and lost balance. Scott quickly tightened his hold and straightened the sail.

“Concentrate,” he said against her ear, and Evie felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. She shivered right down her toes, despite the hot sun beating down on them. “And relax.”

“I’m trying,” she said, way too breathlessly, and knew she would never relax while he held her.

His body was suddenly closer, his hold firmer, more intimate, and Evie leaned into the support of his broad chest. Scott’s arms cradled her like a safety net, and his hands half covered hers on the boom as the board skimmed across the water. She could feel his thighs against her bottom, and a sharp pleasure arrowed deep down in her belly. Her long-ignored libido did a wild leap, heating her blood.

And then, as he held her, it somehow became more than lust, more than an unexpected physical awakening.
Something else was happening.
Her heart pumped wildly and she experienced a kind of silly giddiness.

She leaned back farther, felt his chin against her hair and the tension suddenly coiling through his body.
Now who needs to relax?
She almost said the words. But the wind blew up and Evie pushed her concentration back to her task.

Half an hour later he steered the board toward the shore and they stepped off.

“Incredible,” Evie said, and took a few much-needed breaths as Scott pulled the sailboard onto the sand. “I can’t believe how much fun that was.”

“Now who sounds like an adrenaline junkie?” he said, and grabbed a towel.

Evie smiled and rubbed her skin dry. “Who would have imagined it?”

He looked at her. “I think a person could spend a lifetime getting to know you, Evie, and still be surprised.”

Her belly rolled.
Oh...I’m in so much trouble here.

She did her best to ignore the ever-growing awareness and minutes later they had their clothes back on and were headed for the surf club to return the gear. When they got back to the clubhouse, there was a police car parked outside.

“Trouble?” Scott asked.

Evie shrugged, and then changed to a shake of her head when she spotted Cameron Jakowski, dressed in his regulation blue police uniform, walking across the threshold of the automatic doors.

“Hey, Evie,” he greeted, juggling a few tins of paint, some brushes and a roller.

He was charming, handsome, Noah’s best friend and she’d known him all her life. “What are you doing here?” she asked, stopping in front of the building.

Cameron motioned to the equipment in his hands. “We’ve had some graffiti problems at the community hall,” he explained. “A few of the kids from the Big Brother program are giving me a hand with a quick-cover paint job.” He smiled. “I ran out of paint and paintbrushes.”

“Did you catch the culprits?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he said, and looked at her companion inquiringly.

Evie didn’t miss the look. With the sailboard between them, towels flung over their shoulders and sand-encrusted feet, she was certain Cameron’s curiosity was in overdrive. She quickly made introductions and they talked for a short while about the upcoming wedding until Cameron said he had to get back to the trio of teenage boys he mentored.

“You know,” he said to Scott as he opened the car door, “if you’ve got some free time while you’re here I’m sure the boys would like to hear something about your job. We meet every Wednesday night at the community hall around seven. Guests speakers are always welcome.” He dumped the equipment into the passenger seat of his police vehicle. “Evie will show you where.” He looked at Evie and winked. “Let me know.”

Once he’d left and they’d returned their gear, she followed Scott back to the motorcycle and waited while he tucked the towels beneath the seat. He hesitated passing her the helmet.

He looked at her oddly. “Old boyfriend?”

Evie frowned. “Cameron? God, no,” she replied. “He goes through women like they’re...well, let’s just say he has a short attention span and leave it at that.”

“And you’d like someone with a long attention span?” he asked. “Is that it?”

Evie’s skin warmed and she tugged the helmet from his hands. “As much as the next woman,” she said. “I’d like to think I could at least
hold
his attention for longer than one night.”

Scott’s heart thundered in his chest. Because Evie Dunn
had
his attention. Every last bit of it. He got on the bike and didn’t move a muscle when she slid behind him and rested her hands on his waist. But he felt the heat of her touch as if she were branding him with her fingertips.

Scott sucked in a breath and started the Harley. The sooner he took her home, the better. And there would be no more sailboarding. No more skin-to-skin contact. No more having to try to keep his hands to himself. And definitely no more of that damned sexy swimsuit that revealed just enough of her to turn him inside out.

When they got back to the house, Scott heard her faintly thank him for the lesson. She took off quickly and he was glad for it. He remained outside for a while, thinking. Thinking that a hotel would be a good idea. At least it would take him away from the temptation that was Evie Dunn.

He walked around the garden, determined to get his body in check. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this...maybe never. It sure as hell had snuck up on him from out of nowhere. He was lusting after something...
someone
...he couldn’t have. And it was damned inconvenient.

Scott walked around the garden some more, inspecting things with more than his usual detail. Okay, so gardens weren’t his thing. Evie obviously liked it, though—he could tell that by the extraordinary array of greenery and foliage and flowering plants that curved around pathways and climbed over small rock walls. There was a small wishing well in the center of the garden. An old timber plaque leaned against the edge, inviting those inclined to drop in a coin and make a wish.

“It all goes to charity.”

Scott swiveled on his heel. Evie had come up behind him with the stealth of a cat. She’d changed her clothes, too. The skirt was long but somehow sexy the way it moved across her legs as she stepped closer. And her hair was loose and hung like a crown around her head, highlighting the amazing color of her eyes and perfectly shaped mouth. He couldn’t drag his gaze away from her, couldn’t seem to make himself look elsewhere.

“Sorry?” he heard himself say, and wondered why she’d followed him into the garden.

She pointed to the well. “The money from the wishes,” she explained. “I scoop it out once a year and donate it to a charity.”

“It’s not making you rich, then?”

She smiled. “Hardly. People don’t seem to believe in wishes all that much anymore.”

Scott crossed his arms. “Do you?” he asked, feeling hot and tense all of a sudden, and knowing it was because he couldn’t stop thinking about Evie’s incredibly kissable mouth.

“Do I believe in wishes?” She took another step toward the well and peered into it. “I’m not sure. I guess that would be like saying I believe in magic.” She stepped back. “I haven’t thought about magic for a long time.”

“And did you have magic with your husband?” Scott had no idea where the question came from, or why he was asking it. It was intensely personal—and way out of line. And he was even more astounded when she responded.

“A kind of magic, I suppose.” She pushed a stray pebble back between the cracks in the stone pavers with her sandal. “Loving someone can feel like that—like you can do anything, achieve anything.” She stopped, looked at him and gave a wry smile. “I’m not normally so sentimental.”

Neither was he. But being around Evie pushed his buttons—all kinds of buttons. And some of them seemed to border on sentimental. Romantic, even. He looked at her, felt the vibrations coming off her pierce through him. Whatever he was feeling, he was pretty sure she was feeling it, too.

Somehow, she was suddenly in front of him. She looked as though she wanted to say something but stopped. Then her gaze lifted up to meet his. It was all he needed. His arms moved around her and after a flash of resistance, her palms rested against his chest.

And because he knew that at that moment there was nothing else for either of them, Scott took a breath and then kissed her amazing mouth.

Chapter Five

A
t some point a voice of reason was going to interrupt and tell Evie to stop kissing Scott Jones. Or get him to stop kissing her. Either way, she knew it had to end. Kisses like this weren’t real. They were the stuff of fairy tales and silly movies. The kind of kisses her friend Fiona swooned over and insisted were so worth waiting for.

Okay—so being kissed by Scott
was
worth waiting for. In fact, as his mouth slanted over her own to deepen the contact, the thrill of it jolted every inch of skin covering her bones. The man certainly knew how to kiss.

But it really has to stop...

Only...when his hands moved across her hips and drew her against him, Evie lost all coherent thought. She felt his breath, his lips, his tongue, and she returned the kiss, wary at first, giving a little, taking more and really
feeling
for the first time since...forever.
No woman could resist this,
a faraway voice taunted.
No flesh-and-blood woman would want to.

And Evie was quickly discovering she was very much a flesh-and-blood woman—and that she liked kissing Scott. She liked it so much her skin was searing and her blood felt molten hot in her veins.
Desire...
the little voice sang out again. That’s what this was.
Lust. Hunger. Sex.

Sex without love? Could she do that? Making love when love had nothing to do with it? Evie knew she simply wasn’t built that way. No matter how divine his mouth felt.

He must have sensed her growing reticence because he ended the kiss and gently released her. “I’m guessing you don’t think this is a good idea?”

Evie’s skin heated. “Do you?”

“It’s just a kiss.” He said the words casually.

Evie frowned. “I’m not indiscriminate,” she said as she turned her head to look back at the house, wondering if the Manning sisters were peeking through the curtains. The last thing she wanted was to get caught making out with Scott. “Anyway,” she said, catching her breath and trying valiantly to look in control. “The reason I came out here was to tell you that Callie called. She’s expecting you tonight about six.”

He nodded. “She asked me over for dinner. Would you like to come with me?”

Sensible Evie came quickly to her rescue. Thank goodness. Otherwise she might have been tempted to say yes. “I’m teaching a class tonight.”

“Too bad for me, then.”

Her heart skipped, then flipped, then almost got caught in her throat. “Okay—so I’ll see you later.” She turned and left, not quite running, but close enough to it to look like a first-rate idiot.

Evie buried herself in her studio for the following couple of hours and waited until she heard the loud rumble of the motorcycle leaving before she returned to the house. The Kellers were out for the evening and she made swift work of preparing a light supper of soup and buttered herb bread for Flora and Amelia before heading back to the studio by seven o’clock for her class.

In her studio Evie usually found a kind of peace. Only she was so distracted the peace she craved didn’t come. All she had was a head full of thoughts about Scott. She’d forgotten how good kissing was and how much she’d missed it. And she’d forgotten how it felt to be held. She’d forgotten strong arms and broad shoulders. She’d forgotten everything. No, not forgotten, but shut out...left to linger along with memories of a husband she’d loved and never imagined she could replace.

Kissing Scott had felt good. Too good. But it wouldn’t go anywhere. It couldn’t.

He’s twenty-seven. I’m thirty-six.
A math genius she wasn’t—but no amount of thinking could make her see their ages as anything other than an impossible divide between two people with completely different lives.
He’s all wrong for me.
A firefighter. A man with a dangerous occupation had no place in her structured, orderly world.

Evie put herself to work and began cleaning paintbrushes to fill time before her class began. She had five regular students, including her youngest sister, Mary-Jayne, and their good friend Fiona Walsh. Once her students began to arrive, she managed to clear her head and concentrate on teaching the women how to texture paint on the canvas.

“So, what’s with you?” Mary-Jayne asked when the class had concluded and the last of the students had left. She always lingered for coffee and a chat.

Evie shrugged and kept pushing stools in front of empty easels. “Not a thing.”

“Really? You looked about as into the class tonight as I look when I go for a dental checkup.”

Evie looked at her sister. Bubbly, effervescent and lovingly indulged all her life, Mary-Jayne, or M.J. as she was affectionately called by anyone who knew her, had a history of asking completely inappropriate questions and hounding for an answer with the tenacity of a terrier.

“I’m fine.”

M.J.’s incredible brows rose. “Are the hormones acting up?”

A breath stuck in Evie’s throat. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, just that I heard a rumor you were shacking up with a drop-dead-gorgeous fireman.”

Mortified, Evie swiveled on her heel to face her sister. “I’m not shacking up at all,” she said in her best big-sister voice. “You know exactly why he...” She stopped, paused, looked at her sister and faked a smile. “It’s a favor for Callie,” she explained. “Her place is under renovation. Noah’s got Callie’s mother arriving next week and our parents’ house will be packed with relatives right up until Christmas and the wedding.”

“So he
is
gorgeous?”

Evie ignored the thump of her heart. “Drop by tomorrow and see for yourself.”

M.J. gave a chuffed laugh. “Ha—you’re not fooling me with the casual act. If your face glowed any brighter you could be used as a beacon.”

Evie held her ground. “Haven’t you got somewhere to be?”

M.J. laughed louder and brighter. “Of course,” she replied. “Actually, I do need to get going. I’ve had a big order through my website and need to start on the pieces,” she said, referring to her jewelry design business.

After her sister left, Evie spent some time in front of an easel. Dabbling with watercolors, she relaxed a bit and tried to lose herself in the creative process for a while. But her tension returned the moment she heard the familiar rumble of Scott’s motorcycle coming up the driveway. The engine cut out quickly and before she had the opportunity to move, Evie heard a rap on the door. With only a mesh screen between them, Evie knew hiding was out of the question. She took a deep breath, and invited him inside.

“Am I interrupting?” he asked when he saw she was midbrushstroke.

Evie dropped the brush and shifted off the edge of the seat. “Not at all,” she said. “I’m just playing with color—nothing serious.” She stood and wiped her hands down her paint-dotted jeans. “How was your evening?”

Scott placed his helmet and keys on the bench near the door and took a few strides into the room. “Good.” He smiled. “Except for Callie’s cooking.”

Evie smiled back. Her friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law’s reputation in the kitchen was well noted. “Well, thankfully Noah can flip steaks and burgers on the barbecue if the need arises.”

Scott shrugged lightly. “Your brother doesn’t seem to mind that she can’t cook.”

“No. In fact, I think he finds it endearing,” she replied.

“Well, there’s certainly no doubt he loves her.”

Evie nodded. “Yes, no doubt. They’re very happy together. And my brother is a good man,” she said directly. “He’ll treat her right.”

Scott’s gaze narrowed fractionally. “I wasn’t suggesting otherwise.”

Evie lifted her shoulders and then dropped them quickly. “Sorry—habit. Sometimes I’m overprotective of my family.”

“You shouldn’t apologize for that.” He grabbed a stool in one deft move and placed it against the wall. “Actually,” he said as he sat, “
I
find it endearing.”

Evie didn’t miss the hint of intimacy in his words. In fact, she knew he was being deliberately provoking. While she was trying her best to
not
think about him in that way, he didn’t appear to feel the same need.

Youth and bravado.

Or just plain old male egotism running riot.

Either way, Evie knew it had to stop. Because if it didn’t, she knew any moment she was going to start thinking about that scorching, toe-curling kiss again. Which simply would not do.

“I hope the bike didn’t wake your guests.”

She snatched a look at him, not wanting to notice the way his jeans stretched across his thighs, but noticing anyway because he was impossible to ignore. “I doubt it,” she said quietly. “Trevor’s staying over at Cody’s, and the Manning sisters can sleep through anything.” She checked her watch. “And the Kellers have gone into town for dinner and a movie.”

“So we’re all alone?”

More intimacy. More curled toes. More everything. Evie fought to catch her breath before it left her throat. “Like I said, Amelia and Flora are inside asleep.”

“And they can sleep through anything?”

Her heart skipped. “What did you have in mind?” she asked, although she couldn’t believe the words came out.

“Come for a ride with me?”

She straightened, narrowed her gaze and automatically looked at her watch. “It’s ten o’clock.”

“Do you have a curfew?” he asked.

Evie shook her head. “Of course not. It’s just that I couldn’t—”

“I promise the bike won’t turn into a pumpkin after midnight,” he said, smiling just enough for her to see his dimple. “And I won’t turn into a frog.”

“You’re mixing your fairy tales,” Evie said. “
Cinderella
and
The Frog Prince
—both favorites of mine—but both very different stories.”

“The ending’s the same, though, isn’t it?”

Evie drew in a breath. “Yes.”

“So come with me?” He looked at her with searing intensity. “I feel like a walk on the beach.”

Evie squashed back the feeling of anticipation weaving up her back. But she willed herself not to be tempted. “Not a good idea.”

He chuckled and it was such a sexy sound Evie could barely stand still in her own skin. “Evie, there’s something unique about you that makes me want to get to know you better.”

Evie held her breath. The man was seductive and mesmerizing. And she was in serious trouble of falling head over heels in lust. “We agreed that we wouldn’t get involved.”

“It’s just an invitation to walk along the beach,” he said easily. “Not a marriage proposal.”

She twisted her fingers together, determined to do something with her ridiculously unsteady hands.
I am behaving like a first-rate fool.
But her resistance lingered. Evie knew what would happen if they were alone together on a deserted beach late at night. They might kiss again, and touch... Scott might take her in his arms and she would go willingly to wherever he led her. Perhaps they would make love on the sand.

He studied her face, absorbing every feature and making her hot all over. “Okay,” he said so quietly Evie took a small step toward him. If he was going to speak she wanted to hear what he had to say. When he pushed himself off the stool, they were only a few feet apart. “Evie...”

She looked up, met his gaze and swayed forward.

“You’re very talented.”

Not what she was expecting. And he now looked above her head and at the many paintings hung around the room, and she hadn’t expected that, either. “Thank you.”

He stepped to the side and walked between the freestanding easels. “Do you sell much of your work?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?” he asked, and stood in front of a trio of watercolor landscapes on one wall. “These are excellent.”

Evie followed his steps. “Do you have an interest in art?”

He shrugged. “I know what I like. Although I’m no expert. You have an amazing gift.”

A gift? It had been such a long time since anyone had called it that. Gordon had, a lifetime ago. He’d been her greatest supporter and in many ways her muse. He’d pushed her to work harder, to give her best every time she put brush to canvas. But his death had killed off something inside her, too. Evie hadn’t stopped painting completely, although the need to showcase her work had been left behind with all the rest of her ambition. Nowadays she only painted for herself, and with the B and B, her son and the classes she taught occupying most of her time, painting for herself had become little more than an occasional whim.

“I don’t get to paint as much as I used to.”

He half turned and faced her. “Why not?”

Evie shrugged. “No time.”

“Although you used to have time,” he said quietly, and motioned to the nearly two dozen frames hanging around the room and the stack of unfinished pieces lying against the wall in a dark corner. “Judging by the look of things.”

She shrugged again, feeling the bite of criticism. “Do you mean before I became a single mother and had to run this place by myself?”

He turned back to her immediately and both brows shot up. “Is that your way of telling me to mind my own business?”

Evie glared at him. “Would it make much difference?”

“I can be as sensitive as the next guy,” he said easily, looking her over in that way which made her skin burn. “Try me.”

She went to reply, and then stalled. Evie rarely talked about her work. Actually, she
never
talked about her work. But there was an edge of something she couldn’t quite recognize skirting the mood between them, and she felt reluctant to break the link. Evie clutched her arms around her waist and wandered toward an unfinished piece on a large easel.

“I don’t paint like I used to. I don’t seem to have the heart for it anymore.” She let out a heavy breath. “I don’t think I’ve admitted that to anyone before.”

He came beside her and looked at the picture. “You lost your drive?”

“I guess. When I was young I lived to paint. I couldn’t wait to create the next piece, to see where the brush would take me. I’d spend hours in here, mixing colors, sketching and thinking up new ways to be bold and innovative. And then I stopped. After Gordon...well, I just couldn’t seem to...” She paused and looked at the unfinished pieces in the corner. “I just couldn’t finish anything.”