Laughter is good for the abs.
—Eva
Eva felt the sudden loosening of his grip and for a moment she regretted speaking. She should have stayed silent and let it happen. Because it would have happened, she was sure about that. There had been something in his touch that wasn’t all about warming her.
“I’ll give you anything else, but not that.” His voice was rough, his powerful body taut with restraint.
“Why?”
“You know why. We want different things.”
“I want sex. What do you want?”
He cursed under his breath. “We are coming at this from a different place.”
“As long as we’re coming, it doesn’t matter.”
He didn’t laugh. “You’re a dreamy romantic!”
“You’re worried I’ll fall in love, but I won’t. Take a close look at me.” She lifted her face to his. “Do you see stars in my eyes? Do I look dreamy? Am I gazing at you as if you’re a gold-plated unicorn? No. And that’s because you’re not looking at a woman in love, Lucas, you’re looking at a woman who wants sex. Are you in or out?”
A smile touched his mouth. “Are you talking figuratively or literally?”
“Both, I hope.”
His smile faded and he grazed her cheek with his fingers. “Feelings aren’t that easy to control.”
“So now you’re saying you’re irresistible? That’s arrogant.”
“I’m saying you’re vulnerable. And I don’t take advantage of vulnerable women.”
“I’m not vulnerable. I’m open. It’s not the same thing. I’m not scared of feelings, Lucas. That’s the difference between us. Feelings are part of life. Feelings are how we know we’re alive.”
He stared into her eyes for a long moment and when the elevator doors finally opened he took her hand and led her to his apartment. “You need a hot shower to warm you up.”
“Are you taking one with me?” She slid her hand under his shirt and he clamped his hand over hers.
“Eva—”
“I’m taking your advice about that shower. I just hope you’ll join me.” She walked toward the stairs, unraveling her scarf as she walked. She dropped it on the floor, and then unbuttoned her coat, glancing at him in invitation. “I’m still shivering. I might die of hypothermia if you don’t warm me up fast.”
“So keep your coat on.” He spoke through his teeth and she smiled and shrugged it off, draping it over the back of a chair.
“I need to get out of these wet things.” She pulled off her sweater and heard the sharp intake of his breath. “It’s the Dance of the Seven Veils, thermal edition.”
Hoping that his need for her was stronger than his willpower, she walked toward the bedroom she’d been using.
She wanted him, and now she knew he wanted her, too, she was tired of holding back.
He followed her, but paused in the doorway, his hand on the doorjamb. His knuckles were white, as if he was preventing himself from taking those final steps into the room. “This is a bad idea.”
“Good sex is never a bad idea.” Her wet clothes stuck to her skin and her fingers were so cold she could no longer feel the tips, but somehow she managed to undress and walk toward the shower. She took her time, knowing he was watching her.
She wanted him, and she’d made it clear she wanted him. That was enough. She wasn’t going to beg.
She hit the jets with her numb fingers and closed her eyes, gasping with relief as the heat of the water warmed her freezing skin. Through the steady raindrops of water she heard his voice.
“We both know this isn’t just sex, Eva.”
His voice melted over her, rich and soothing, layered with a strength that relaxed the tension in her muscles. Her body responded to those deep tones and she kept her eyes closed, knowing that they always gave everything away in the few seconds before her mouth opened and did the rest.
“Do we?” She turned and let the water drench her hair and flow over her skin. “How many orgasms make a relationship?”
“I don’t know. You’re shivering. You’re still cold?”
“I’m not cold.” It had nothing to do with that, but she couldn’t begin to explain how she was feeling. She watched as he undressed and stepped into the shower unit, and then melted as she felt his hands stroke over her skin and the solid muscle of his thighs brush against hers. She held her breath, savoring the steamy, intimate contact of his skin against hers. She’d forgotten how good it felt to be touched, and she wasn’t sure it had ever felt as good as this. She told herself it was because she’d been starved of physical intimacy, but she knew it went deeper than that.
He eased her back against the wall so that the water ceased to drench her and instead thundered over his shoulders and down his back.
His hand was in her hair, infinitely gentle, sliding through the dripping strands, smoothing the droplets of water away from her face. He kissed her eyelids, then her cheek and finally, when excitement was a tight coil in her stomach, he kissed her mouth.
“Eva.” He breathed her name against her lips and she closed her eyes, sinking slowly into the deep, warm pool of desire that threatened to drown her.
She felt his mouth find a path from her jaw to her neck and from there to her shoulder. Anticipation was sharp and exciting, and when his lips closed over the tip of her breast she gasped and dug her fingers into the hard muscle of his shoulders.
“Now.” A single word, but infused with all the urgency of a command.
She half expected him to argue but instead he closed his hands over her bottom and lifted her, trapping her between the heat of his body and the cool tiles of the shower unit. The water thundered down, turning the atmosphere steamy and humid. Or maybe it was the chemistry between them that was responsible for the torrid, sweltering heat. All she knew was that she was no longer cold, and the parts of her that had been numb had thawed. Now she felt with every part of herself. Her skin, her lips, her fingertips. She pressed her mouth to his, feeling the dampness of his skin. His hair was sleek against his head, droplets of water clinging to his thick lashes and she felt him against her, brutally aroused.
Keeping his gaze locked with hers, he adjusted his hold on her and then entered her with a slow, deliberate thrust. Her muscles clamped around him and she dropped her head to his shoulder, welcoming the invasion, feeling his fingers gripping her bottom as he surged deep.
It was unbearably erotic, the restrained urgency, the heated intimacy. She wanted to stay like this forever, joined, connected, one.
She felt dizzy and breathless, and shockingly aroused. She tried to say something, tried to tell him how she was feeling but the only sound that emerged from her lips was a moan. Instead she showed him, sliding her hands over his shoulders, and down, lingering on the swell of his biceps, feeling the flex and ripple of muscle as he held her weight and drove deep. He kept up the slow relentless rhythm, thrusting deep, his mouth fused with hers, until pleasure crashed down on both of them.
* * *
Moonlight played across dark shadows and Lucas heard the soft sound of Eva’s breathing as she slept against him, curled into him like a kitten seeking refuge. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do this again, that what had happened after the ball was a onetime thing. And here he was, naked and wrapped around Eva.
He wondered what it was about her that smashed through his self-control.
When he was with her, need overwhelmed caution.
It was a type of infatuation. A sexual infatuation that clouded his thinking. Or maybe it was just that he hadn’t allowed himself to get this close to anyone in a long time.
Whatever it was, it certainly wasn’t love.
His body might be well and truly seduced, but his heart was untouched by anything they’d shared. Frozen? Damaged? He didn’t know.
Some of his tension must have communicated itself to her because she snuggled into him and yawned. Her limbs tangled intimately with his. “You’re quiet. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He was thinking that she was a woman who looked for, and expected, happy-ever-afters and nothing they shared could end that way. He knew nothing about happy-everafters. All he knew was that she wanted love, and he didn’t.
“I’m not thinking anything.”
“You are. You’re wondering what this means and where it leads.”
“It doesn’t lead anywhere, Eva.”
“Because you never want to fall in love again.” There was a long silence. “You think you’re such an expert on love, but what if you’re not?”
“You’re saying I didn’t love my wife?”
“No, I’m not saying that.” Her voice was soft in the darkness. “I’m saying that there are as many different ways to love as there are people in the world. No two relationships can ever be the same. If they were, then there would only ever have been one love story written.”
“You’re telling me that Romeo didn’t feel the same way about Juliet as Heathcliff did about Cathy?”
“Why must you always pick doomed relationships as examples? I’m saying that love is as different as the people who feel it. You could say that bread is just flour and water, but with a few subtle tweaks you can produce something different each time. Love doesn’t have to be a tragedy. It can be happy.” She hesitated. “Don’t you believe in second chances?”
“Failing in a marriage isn’t like failing an exam. You don’t get to do it all over again and aim for a better grade. At least, not in my case.”
“Is that how you see it? As failure?”
“There was something fundamental that was missing in our relationship. Something I failed to give her.”
“Maybe no one could have given her what she needed. Maybe what she needed was something only she could find.” She paused. “You’ve decided you don’t ever want to love again, but what if there is a different type of love out there for you? One that lifts you, instead of crushes you? You don’t want to miss that. Life is too short and precious to be lived without love, Lucas.”
Did she really believe that?
Hearing her words cemented his belief that this was a giant mistake. “How have you made it this far in life without being thoroughly disillusioned?”
“You’re assuming you’re right and I’m wrong, but what if I’m not the one who’s wrong?”
“I’ve been in love, Eva. I know what love is.”
“You know what love was for you last time, but you don’t know what love could be. Next time it could be different. Just think about it.”
He didn’t know whether her view on the world was inspiring or terrifying.
“What I think,” he said, “is that you’re living in fairy-tale land again.”
“My friends call it Planet Eva. But it’s nice here.” Her voice was soft and breathy. “Maybe you should join me, even if it’s only for a minibreak.”
Despite all the warnings in his head, she made him laugh and he lowered his mouth to hers and pressed her back against the bed. She was luscious and succulent, like her food. “Maybe I will.”
“There’s only one rule. No baggage on Planet Eva. We travel light here. Hand luggage only.”
* * *
Eva slept through the alarm twice and woke grumpy and flustered.
She found Lucas in his bathroom, shaving. A towel was knotted round his waist.
“It’s late. Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because you’re terrible in the mornings, and even worse when you’re tired. And you had reason to be tired. You had an active night.”
“You were there, too, remember?”
His eyes met hers in the mirror. “I remember.”
She backed away but he snaked out a hand and closed his fingers round her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“To make breakfast.”
“Not today. I’m taking you out. There’s a place around the corner. French bistro. You’ll love it.” He released her and turned back to the mirror.
“But your book—”
“I’ve finished a first draft. I need some space away from it before I tackle it again.”
“You’ve finished it?” She was thrilled for him. “How many words?”
“A hundred thousand. And a first draft doesn’t mean it’s finished.”
“A hundred thousand?” Eva felt weak. “If I write a hundred words for my blog I think I’m doing well. Do you usually write that fast when you get going?”
“No.”
“But this time you were desperate.”
“This time I was inspired.”
Even though she’d given herself a firm talking-to about not reading more into their relationship than there was, his words warmed her insides. “Because I’m the perfect murderess.”
The smile spread across his face, slow and sexy. “You’re the perfect something. I haven’t worked out what yet.”
“Unless you want me to remove that towel and do bad things to you, I should probably get dressed.”
“That sounds like a good idea. I can’t have sex again until I’ve replenished some of the ten million calories we used up last night.”
It was another hour before they finally left the apartment and headed out.
The French Bistro on Lexington Avenue was cozy and personal and Eva was charmed.
“It’s like being back in Paris. How did I not know about this place?”
“You live in Brooklyn.”
It was obvious Lucas was a frequent visitor. The café was packed, but they were shown to a little table by the window.
Eva shrugged off her coat and slid into her seat. “I had a text from Harry. She’s keeping the puppy for another few days, but she’s been in touch with the animal adoption center and they’re confident they won’t have any trouble finding a loving home for him.”
“That’s good.”
It was good. So why did she feel a tug of disappointment?
Reminding herself that she didn’t have time to care for a dog, Eva glanced down at the menu in front of her but Lucas picked it up and handed it back to the waiter.
Without consulting her he ordered for both of them and Eva raised her eyebrows.
“Are you developing controlling tendencies?”
“You’ve been deciding what we eat for the past couple of weeks. It’s my turn. And I eat here all the time. I know what’s good.” He sat back in his chair. “You wanted that puppy, didn’t you?”
“No.” She said it firmly. “I don’t have time. We’re really busy building up the business.”
He gave her a long, steady look but didn’t pursue it. “Do you have any work events between now and Christmas?”
“A couple, but nothing I need to attend in person. I’m using a company called Delicious Eats, and they’re great.”
“What about the Christmas party at the assisted living community? Are you going to go?”
Eva wondered why he was asking her that question. “Why would I?”
“You said that you missed seeing the people there. They probably miss you, too. Why not go?”
It was an option that hadn’t occurred to her. “I don’t know. I thought about going to visit a couple of times after Grams died, but it was so hard—” She tested the idea and felt a flutter of mixed emotions. “I’m worried that going somewhere so full of memories will be painful.”
“Or they might make you feel connected. I’m sure the staff and residents there have memories of their own. They might appreciate sharing them with someone who knew her and loved her.”
The waiter appeared, delivering hot coffee, plates of eggs Florentine and French toast.
Eva stared at her food without seeing it, thinking about Tom and all her grandmother’s friends. “I’ve neglected them. I should have gone and visited but—”
“It feels daunting. So take someone with you for moral support.”
“There isn’t anyone. Paige and Frankie are so busy I couldn’t possibly ask them. Matt is working on a project out in Long Island so he’s away a lot and Jake—well, Jake is great, but not the sort of guy I’d want to cry on.”
“I’ll come with you. And you’ve already cried on me so we’ve covered that one.”
His offer took her by surprise. “You’d do that?”
“You’ve helped me by being here. If I can help you, then I’d like to.”
She was touched, and part of her wondered why he’d make such a generous offer. “You’d be mobbed. One of my grandmother’s closest friends is a fan of yours.”
“I appreciate fans. Without them, I wouldn’t have a job. The only part that makes me uneasy is when women send me their underwear.”
“That happens?”
“More than you’d think.” He told her a few stories about various incidents at book signings and she listened, amused and intrigued.
“I had no idea being an author could be so exciting. You should get danger money. But Tom is ninety, so I don’t think you’d be in any physical danger from him.”
“Eat.” He gestured to her plate. “And think about it.”
She thought about it as they ate, and afterward as they strolled down Fifth Avenue to the Rockefeller Center to admire the Christmas tree.
“I used to come here with Grams.” She leaned against him, watching the skaters glide around the ice rink in a blur of color, wrapped up against the crisp, cold air. Skyscrapers sparkled behind them, dazzling in the winter sunshine. “Sometimes I’d skate and she’d watch. I wish she was here now. I miss talking to her.”
“What would you talk about?”
“I’d ask her advice. Sometimes when I’m not sure what to do about something, I close my eyes and try to imagine what she’d say. Does that sound crazy?”
“No.” He slid his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. “What advice do you need? What would you ask her if she were here?”
She’d ask her grandmother what she should do about Lucas.
“Nothing specific.” She forced a smile. “I’m freezing. We should get back to the apartment so you can work. Thanks for breakfast.”