Читать книгу One Night With Her Ex - Kate Hardy - Страница 12

WALKING away from Logan that Saturday night at the cocktail party wasn’t the hardest thing Evie had ever done. Staying sane the following week was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Sane when Max looked at her sideways and kept his mouth firmly shut. Sane as she worked on project proposals and tried not to wonder what Logan was doing and what he was thinking, and whether she’d ever see him again.

How she could have handled things better.

What she might have done to make Logan stay.

‘What?’ she demanded in exasperation as Max walked into her office unannounced for about the tenth time that morning.

‘Touchy,’ he said.

‘Bite me.’

‘Not my buzz,’ said Max, and placed a sheet of paper on top of the drawings in front of her. ‘You’d be wanting my brother for that.’

He wasn’t wrong. ‘I’m working,’ she said and picked up the sheet and held it out for Max to take back. ‘Whatever it is, you deal with it.’

‘Read it,’ he insisted, so Evie turned it back around with a sigh.

A bank deposit notice, but not a bank she regularly dealt with. Max’s personal account, by the looks of it. With deposit into it yesterday of ten million dollars.

‘Trust fund?’ she asked.

‘Logan.’

Evie’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Terms?’

‘Three per cent below market interest rate.’

‘Handy.’

‘You don’t mind?’ asked Max.

‘Do you?’

‘He stole my fake fiancée and messed with my business plan,’ said Max dryly. ‘I’ll take his money.’

‘Yay for brotherly love,’ said Evie. ‘As long as the loan is between you and Logan and the money comes into the business through you alone, I have no objections.’

‘That’s how it’ll work.’

‘Lucky MEP.’

‘Any other questions?’ asked Max.

Evie shook her head.

‘You don’t want to know where Logan is? What he’s been doing lately?’

She did want to know where Logan was and what he’d been doing lately. But she sure as hell wasn’t going to ask.

‘PNG,’ said Max, as if reading her mind. ‘Sorting out the mess some mining company has made of their operation there. Sometimes Logan troubleshoots for others. For a hefty fee.’

‘The devil will have his due.’

‘He’s a good man, Evie.’

‘I know that, Max.’

‘You should call him. Might improve your mood.’

‘There is nothing wrong with my mood.’

‘Carlo would beg to disagree.’

‘Carlo ordered twenty-eight thousand dollars’ worth of reo we don’t need,’ she said curtly. ‘He’s lucky I let him keep his job.’

‘And Logan thinks you meek,’ muttered Max beneath his breath. ‘God knows why.’

Evie knew exactly why. ‘Was there anything else?’

‘Could be Logan will need a place to stay for a few days when he returns at the end of the week and before he heads back to London. Could be I’m thinking of offering up my apartment for him to use while he’s here.’

‘Why? You think he’s short of cash?’ asked Evie dryly.

‘What I think, said Max with admirable restraint, ‘is that if you want to see him again, you shouldn’t wait for him to call you. Call him. Arrange something. Don’t assume that he knows what he’s doing when it comes to relationships, especially important ones, because he doesn’t.’ Max plucked the bank note from her fingers and waved it in front of her face. ‘This, for example, might as well have “Evie, I want to see you again” written all over it.’

‘But it doesn’t,’ she countered sweetly, and Max sighed and dug his mobile out of his pocket and started in on the touch screen before handing it to her with a flourish.

‘Tell him you’ve been mooning over him all week and want to see him again.’

‘I will not.’

‘All right. Then tell him I want my chief engineer’s head back in the game and that I’m blaming him for the fact that it’s not.’

Evie glared at Max’s hastily retreating back, silently wondering just how many problems she’d solve if she brained Max with his phone. Probably not that many.

‘Tell him I said thank you,’ added Max.

‘Tell him yourself,’ she yelled after him, and then put the phone to her ear just in time to hear the man who currently inhabited most of her dreams—sleeping and waking—say his brother’s name.

Which necessitated some sort of reply.

‘Um … hi. It’s not Max,’ she said awkwardly. ‘It’s Evie. Evie on Max’s phone. How much did you hear?’

‘Everything from “thank you” onwards.’

‘Oh,’ she said, more than a little relieved. ‘Good. Because that about covers it. Your bank transfer came in and Max’s just showed it to me and we wanted to say thank you. Which I’m sure Max will do in person when he sees you next. Thank you, that is.’ And if Max said anything else to his brother about Evie’s recently distracted state she’d strangle him. ‘And I’d like to thank you too. The money’s going to help the civic centre bid’s chances a lot, and Max’s set on winning it and can take it from here, and I can get on with the rest of the work and let the prima donna do his thing … so thank you.’

‘You often make business phone calls like this?’ asked Logan.

‘Never.’

‘Good to know,’ he murmured.

‘Bite me.’

Silence after that, heavy and waiting. Evie took a deep breath. ‘Max tells me you’re flying into Sydney later this week, and I was thinking.’

Evie had no idea what she was thinking.

‘… I was thinking that Max probably wants to invite you into the workplace so you can look around. Which would be fine by me. If you wanted to, that is.’ Evie closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair and thumped her head repeatedly against the headrest, scrabbling for confidence in the face of Logan’s silence and coming up empty. ‘I was thinking you might need to be picked up from the airport. I could do that. Take you wherever you wanted to go.’ Excellent. Now she was officially babbling. ‘How’s PNG?’

‘Hot, sticky and politically messy,’ he said. ‘Largely bereft of plain speaking.’

Evie was largely bereft of plain speaking too.

‘Would you like to have dinner with me while you’re here?’ she asked with her eyes closed tightly shut, and figured it for as plain spoken as she was going to get. ‘I know some good casual eating places. Nothing fancy. But the food’s good.’

Asking a man out on a date was hard. Harder still, when the man in question said a whole lot of nothing in reply.

‘This is the part where you say yes or no,’ she prompted quietly.

‘I don’t get into Sydney until late Friday night,’ he said finally. ‘There’ll be a hire car waiting for me.’

Of course there would.

‘And I don’t need the workplace tour.’

Of course he didn’t. ‘Let me just find Max for you, shall I?’

‘Dinner on Saturday evening I could do.’

‘Pardon?’ Evie was halfway to the door. She probably hadn’t heard him correctly.

‘Dinner,’ he said. ‘Saturday night. Something low-fuss and easy. That I could do.’

‘There’s a place called Brennan’s in Darlinghurst. It’s a bar and grill. Very casual.’

‘I’ll meet you there at 6:00 p.m.,’ he said. ‘Evie, I’ve got to go. I’m meant to be in a meeting.’

Interrupting his work. Not exactly a high priority in his life. He couldn’t have made it any clearer if he’d tried. But he’d said yes to seeing her again, although God knew why.

‘Bye, then,’ she said. And hung up before he could, and went to tell her meddling business partner that her head—far from being back in the game—was now officially screwed.

Served Max right.

Saturday came and Evie spent the bulk of it trying to forget that she’d ever asked Logan out in the first place. She went to Coogee Beach and swam in the surf and then in the rock pool with a uni friend she often caught up with on weekends. They walked the cliff walk round to Bondi and had an ice cream and then she caught the bus home. Which still gave her three hours to fill in until six and her dinner with Logan. She put on a movie and steamed through her ironing basket and did a fast tidy-up of her apartment. And then she hit the shower and saw a slightly sunburned domestic goddess, which wasn’t all bad because now she could turn up at the grill looking as if she’d been enjoying her weekend, rather than just waiting for six o’ clock and Logan to come around.

No woman in her right mind would pin too many hopes on Logan.

So it was well-worn jeans and a white cotton top that gathered at the hip with a multicoloured scarf that she wore to meet him. Add to that an inexpensive blue-bead necklace, half a dozen thin silver bangles, sunglasses perched on her head and Evie figured herself plenty casual as she walked into Brennan’s at five to six. If Logan didn’t show … if he’d changed his mind about seeing her again … well, there was food here aplenty and she wouldn’t go thirsty.

But Logan was already there when Evie arrived, sitting by himself in a corner booth with a half empty beer in front of him and lines around his eyes that told of fatigue, but he smiled when he saw her and hell if she didn’t melt at the sight of it. She’d never seen him in jeans and scuffed work boots before and he wore them just as easily as he wore a custom-made suit. His shirt was black, and seemed to suck in the light and women watched him from the corner of their eyes. Watched him because he was black-eyed and beautiful and sexuality clung to him like a second skin.

He stood as she approached. He took her hand and leaned closer and kissed her cheek and then withdrew. ‘First date,’ he murmured. ‘Easy as. That’s what I’m aiming for,’ he added and sat back down after she sat, and placed an elegant square box, about the size of her hand, on the table between them. ‘I couldn’t find any black-eyed daisies or paper parasols.’

The lid came off and the sides of the box folded down to reveal a life-sized origami hummingbird sipping from a bell-shaped flower.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Evie leaned closer for a better look, not game to touch it, so delicate was the detail. ‘Exquisite. But you didn’t get this from Papua New Guinea.’ This was a museum-quality offering, not a last-minute little something from a handy airport gift shop.

‘No.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘I got it today. I know I cut you short on the phone the other day, Evangeline. It was unavoidable. I know I should have called you back. I just didn’t know what to say.’

‘It’s okay, Logan. I don’t know what I want from you either.’ And it was far easier to say that in person than on the phone. Evie boxed the gift back up with gentle fingers and set it on top of her handbag in the far corner of the bench seat, far away from where the food would be placed. ‘Thank you for your gorgeous gift.’

Logan shrugged, shrugging it off. Don’t make such a fuss over it, he might as well have said. Doesn’t mean I care.

He’d seemed that way with his mother too, and Max to a lesser extent. Desperately trying not to care about them too much. If you didn’t care, they couldn’t hurt you. Oh, Evie knew that defence. She knew it well.

‘How was business in PNG?’

‘Unpredictable,’ he murmured. ‘In need of a strong hand.’

‘So it suited you,’ she countered, and he smiled that lazy wicked smile of his, the one that made her blood heat and her pulse quicken.

‘Yes.’

Hard not to admire a man who worked to his strengths. ‘Are you rich?’ He had to be wealthy in order to slip Max ten million so quickly, but exactly how wealthy was a question Evie hadn’t yet asked and Logan hadn’t yet answered.

‘You want a monetary estimate?’ he asked, and she nodded, and he named a figure that made her sit back and blink. ‘I inherited money early,’ he said. ‘My mother handed over every last cent of my father’s wealth the minute I turned eighteen and I took it and put it to work. The money doubles on a regular basis and that’s the way I like it.’

‘Because you never want to go hungry again?’ she asked.

‘Because I’m addicted to power and the wielding of it.’

‘Wow,’ she murmured. ‘A man who owns his flaws. That’s really rare.’

‘I wouldn’t call them flaws,’ he murmured with a crooked smile. ‘Exactly. What about you, Evie? Are you rich?’

‘Not at all, compared to you. I own my own apartment. I can sometimes afford an expensive treat but I don’t make a habit of it. As far as family goes, my father’s respectably well-off but not effortlessly wealthy; probably because he’s on his fifth wife. My mother was wife number three. I have twelve half siblings, no full siblings, and my mother’s now on husband number three. Max thinks I have no strong ties to family and no respect whatsoever for the institution of marriage. He’s probably right.’

‘So if a man wanted to marry you …’

‘I’d take some convincing.’

‘How long did it take Max to convince you?’

‘Ah, but Max had good monetary reason for wanting to get married. And it benefited me too. And it wouldn’t have been a proper marriage anyway. It was more of a business transaction. With a two-hundred-thousand-dollar windfall clause for the injured party every time one of us strayed.’

‘Honour system?’ asked Logan with a touch of incredulity about him.

‘No. The clause only kicked in if the straying became public knowledge.’

‘And Max agreed to this?’

‘I know,’ said Evie, making good use of her eyelashes. ‘I figured Max would be up for at least a couple of million before we were through, and that’s being conservative. Your brother’s got a short attention span.’

‘And no contract sense whatsoever.’

‘I had his back though,’ murmured Evie. ‘If Max got too far in debt to me I was going to start matching him, indiscretion for public indiscretion.’

Logan’s eyes narrowed. Evie smiled and sipped at her just-arrived soda. ‘You’re pulling my leg,’ he said finally.

‘Someone’s got to. You take life entirely too seriously.’

‘No, I take contracts seriously. There’s a difference.’

‘If you say so.’

‘You’re sunburnt,’ he said and Evie nodded agreeably.

‘That’s because I’ve been to the beach.’

‘Was it good?’

‘Very good.’

‘Maybe there should have been sunscreen involved.’

‘There was. Though possibly not enough.’

‘What else do you do in your down time?’ he asked.

‘I like to travel. Explore new places. Even a new-tome suburb will do.’

‘On your own?’

‘It’s better with friends. But sometimes on my own.’

‘Any special friends I need to know about?’ he asked.

‘You mean lovers?’ she said and he nodded, his eyes narrowing. ‘No. I may not be marriage-ready, but one lover at a time will do.’

‘Am I currently the one?’

‘I don’t know.’ Time for truth and if it burned then so be it. ‘I guess that’s what I asked you here to find out.’

‘I’m only here for a week, Evie.’ His voice held a quiet warning.

‘Sounds familiar.’ Hers held quiet challenge. ‘I like you, Logan, in case you hadn’t noticed. Baggage and all. It wouldn’t be a hardship to spend another week with you. Might even be fun.’

‘As opposed to …’

‘Intense, confusing, and ultimately heartbreaking. I’d like to think that we have enough experience between us now to keep those elements out of play.’

‘You don’t like intense?’

‘You’re right. There’s a lot to be said for intensity. That one can stay.’

‘You calling the shots now, Evie?’

‘Only some of them. Feel free to voice your requirements too.’

‘I want exclusivity,’ he said.

‘The feeling’s mutual.’

‘And freedom.’

‘I’ll do my freely exclusive best.’

‘Obedience.’

‘And sometimes you’ll get it.’ Evie edged closer, elbows to the table, so much for manners. ‘You don’t want to dominate me completely, remember? Or am I wrong about that?’

‘Just keep reminding me when I forget.’ He had his shoulders to the padded black vinyl of the booth bench and one arm stretched out on the table towards her.

He looked gorgeous and confident and he leaned forward with a look that spoke of barely contained hunger. ‘C’m’ere.’

Evie inched closer because she wanted to. Opened her lips beneath his, because she wanted that too. The taste of him, not knowing what type of kiss she’d get from him, and she wondered if he mixed his kisses up deliberately—needy and greedy one time and slow and savouring the next. Whether he ever had a plan.

Evie never had a plan once he laid siege to her, but that would have to change.

Just as soon as this gentle whisper of a kiss finished.

‘You talk a good game, Evie,’ he murmured, and eased away slowly. ‘I’m tempted to give you that week.’

‘This coming week is the one on offer,’ she said with a gentle smile as she sat back and browsed the blackboard menu. ‘Let me know what you decide. I think I’ll have the salmon, spinach leaves and pear salad. You?’

‘Rib eye.’

‘They do a nice one here.’ Small talk to settle her nerves. And then the waiter came for their order and a side of bread arrived shortly after that and Evie nibbled on it and her stomach settled further. The civic centre bid had been submitted, she told him. Max was doing the follow-up courting. Three bread-and-butter projects were out of the ground and well under way. Plans for a luxury harbour-side residence were on the drawing board. Business as usual. Enjoyable as always, that mix of creativity and calculation. There was an eco house up in the Blue Mountains that she wanted to see. Canton tower in Guangzhou, China. Hell, why not a world tour of giant Ferris wheels and fabulous hotels?

‘That what you want to do this coming week?’ he asked quietly. ‘Because we could.’

‘Maybe you could,’ she said after a moment’s startled silence. ‘The rest of us get to save for years, finesse the dream and carry the sweet scent of achievement around with us when finally such a trip comes to pass. But if it’s filling this coming week that you’re interested in, I still have to work seven till three, Monday to Friday. Wednesday afternoon I might be able to clear. How do you feel about roller coasters and fairy floss?’

‘That’s your idea of a dream date?’

‘You don’t like roller coasters and fairy floss?’

Logan shrugged. ‘It’s been a while.’

For her too. Maybe it wasn’t such a good combination. ‘Does Max know you’re having dinner with me?’

‘Not unless you told him.’

‘I didn’t.’ Which led to the next question that needed asking. ‘This week you’re currently considering sharing with me—do you care if people know about it?’

‘Do you?’

‘No. But then, I’m not the businessman wheeler and dealer with control issues.’

‘I wouldn’t call them issues, exactly.’

Maybe her multimillionaire wasn’t so self aware after all. ‘Would you want to stay at my apartment?’

‘I’m staying in a serviced apartment at the Quay,’ he replied. ‘You could come there.’

‘Yes, but it’s not your home, is it? Last time we did this I was living in a student dorm and you were living out of a hotel penthouse. We spent most of our time in that penthouse naked. Beyond our sexual compatibility I had no real sense of you as a person. And you had none of me. I wonder if that was a mistake.’

‘Do you really want me in your home?’ he asked.

‘Yes. My bed. My kitchen in the mornings. My life. For a week.’

‘What if we’re not compatible?’

‘Then there’s nothing to worry about.’ Evie sat back and regarded him solemnly. ‘The question you should be worrying about is what if we are?’

Logan ended up at her place for coffee. No word from him yet on what he would do this coming week. No more words from Evie either, regarding their relationship. Instead she invited him in and stood back and watched him as he entered her apartment. Nothing special by his standards, but more than adequate by hers. She wondered if Logan would recognise his brother’s touch when it came to the design, but if he did he didn’t say anything. Max had made his early reputation by converting row upon row of inner-city warehouses into spacious three-storey apartments and this was one of them. It was how they’d met. She’d asked Max for some structural changes and he’d heard her out grudgingly. About halfway into the collaboration Max’s reluctance had turned to enthusiasm.

‘There’s three floors,’ she said. ‘Kitchen, living area and utilities are on the ground floor, office and spare room on the first floor and my bedroom and living quarters are up the top.’

‘You have a three-storey fire pole,’ he said.

‘Did I mention I like rides?’

Logan just looked at her.

‘I have stairs too.’ Gorgeous, floating stairs she’d designed herself—one of the modifications she’d asked of Max. She’d started out with grand plans for a minimalist lifestyle, but that was half a dozen years ago now and homely clutter had moved in. Not a showpiece, this apartment, but a home. Comfortable sofas in mismatched colours. Mismatched cushions too. Lots of colour to balance the unpainted concrete walls and exposed girders. Logan was looking up at those rooftop girders now.

‘What are you looking for?’ she asked.

‘Trapeze.’

‘Huh.’ She’d never considered a trapeze before, though she had considered bungee apparatus. ‘You think I’d need a net?’

‘That or a last will and testament. You know, I never once figured you for a thrill seeker.’

‘Really? You don’t think me sliding so willingly up and down the pleasure-pain endorphins might have clued you in?’

Logan shrugged. ‘Not sure I was thinking at all when I was with you before, Evangeline.’

‘And now?’

‘Well, I can still remember my name,’ he said. ‘That’s got to be a good sign. Have you given any thought to what might happen after our week is up?’

‘Logan, I’m not sure we’re even going to get through today. There’s still three hours of it left, and forgive me for saying so but you don’t seem to want to be here.’ Evie was nervous. Logan looked nervous. Hardly an ideal combination.

‘It’s just … this is your home.’

‘Yes.’ She eyed Logan speculatively. ‘Logan, have you ever been in a woman’s home before? Apart from your mother’s?’

‘I have aunts as well,’ he murmured.

‘You know what I mean.’ She meant had he ever been to the home of a woman he’d bedded, or intended to bed.

‘No.’

‘Nervous?’ She turned to a high kitchen shelf and pulled down a bottle of half-empty Scotch. Good Scotch. Glasses came next and then she unscrewed the lid and poured generously.

‘You really think that’s the solution?’

‘I’m willing to give it a whirl,’ she murmured before lifting a glass and tilting it towards him and then downing it in one hasty swallow. ‘That one was for courage, and here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to go over to the lounge, turn on the television and channel surf until you find something you want to watch. I’m going to put some nibbles on a plate and bring them over and sit down beside you and relax. There’s a slim chance you might relax too.’

‘Don’t count on it.’

‘I’m not,’ she said dryly. ‘What do you think the courage was for?’

Logan shot her a smile and picked up her glass and his and the Scotch bottle too before sauntering over to the lounge.

She joined him a short time later, dimming the lights on the way. Easier to ignore all the bits and pieces she’d filled her life with after that. Not so easy to ignore the effects of Logan’s nearness, the subtle scent of sandalwood on his skin. The strong, sensual shape of his lips or the ripe red colour of them. He was so very kissable.

And clearly he felt completely out of place.

Two minutes she lasted. Two minutes before her hands were roaming his chest and Logan’s hands were in her hair as he laid silent, lazy siege to her mouth.

Evie knew she was coming apart under Logan’s touch but there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Did he know how closely attuned to each other they were in their lovemaking? How rare that was? Rare for her, at any rate. Maybe for Logan it was perfectly normal. Maybe he made every woman he bedded feel as if she were the only thing that mattered to him in this world.

Maybe that was just his way.

Vocal—that was new. The husky oaths that fell from his lips like endearments. The groans that sounded like prayer.

On her back now, because that was where he wanted her, with her legs drawn up on either side of him and his mouth not leaving hers. Sinuous, his movements as he rubbed up against her. Sensuality his weapon of choice.

And he used it with devastating effect.

Kissing was easy, thought Logan. Kissing was a hell of a lot easier than talking or trying to fit into a life that was not his.

His shirt came off, and Evie’s would have too, but she slid out from beneath him and pushed him back against the sofa with a palm to his chest as she straddled his hips.

‘My house,’ she murmured. ‘My rules.’

She pushed his arms back until they rested outstretched along the back of the sofa and set her lips to his triceps and he shuddered beneath her touch and closed his eyes and let her play. Pure pleasure, no pain, and he craved this just as much as he’d ever craved the other. Such a slow and easy slide into sensation. The wet lick of tongue against sensitive skin. The brush of soft hair over hardened nipples. The slow creep of moisture and heat and the tightening of his balls when finally she freed him from his clothes and loosened her own and he slid slowly into her.

Not always rough and fighting for control. Sometimes—when the mood was upon him—he could be exquisitely, unthinkingly …

Gentle.

Evie woke the next morning in her bed. She’d lured Logan there eventually and the slight shift of her head confirmed that he hadn’t yet left. He lay sleeping instead, and in the quiet half-light of dawn Evie studied the man she’d tangled with so exquisitely last night. More beautiful asleep than awake—and always had been. Less guarded when he was asleep and far more innocent-looking. Slept on his tummy with his hands beneath the pillow and his head and one knee crooked towards her. As if he’d watched her slide into slumber before surrendering to it himself.

Fanciful notion, and she knew it. The man had been sated towards the end. He would have closed his eyes and been asleep within moments, just as she had. No time for analysis of the lovemaking that had taken place. The frightening, soul-stealing beauty of it.

That was what morning-afters were for.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, Evie slid silently from the bed, slipped a robe from its hanger and headed for the stairs, no need to put it on now. She’d shower downstairs where the noise would not wake him. No need to wake him for, once she did that, Logan might go.

She had a feeling he’d want to go.

‘I’d kill for coffee,’ he said as her toes touched the first step.

Evie turned and found herself in receipt of a sleepy gaze that swept her from head to toe. Not the full-wattage smile; he wasn’t even trying and still he warmed her through.

‘In house or out?’ she asked lightly. ‘Because if you’re fussy, there’s a place on the corner that does fancy coffee.’

‘Not fussy,’ he rumbled as his eyes closed once more. Not quite awake either. ‘Just need something to wake me up. Evie?’ he murmured.

‘What?’

‘Morning.’

Logan gave himself over to a few more minutes of shut-eye before rolling onto his back and setting the heels of his hands to his face in an attempt to make his eyes stay open. He shouldn’t be jet-lagged; he’d only flown in from PNG. No, the tiredness came from not being able to leave Evie alone last night. Of reaching for her one last time, and then another. Of going slow and savouring every caress.

Last night he’d been given a gift. A chance to make amends for all that had gone before, and he’d done it, replaced old memories with new. Better memories that he could examine without shame. Memories he could hold on to without feeling the stain on his soul.

He looked around the room, looking for clues as to the type of person Evie was at home and finding it in the rough concrete finish of the walls and the exposed plumbing and air-con. No hiding of mechanics behind pretty painted walls for Evie. She seemed to want to strip life back to basics so she could keep an eye on it—everything exposed, even the clothes cupboard, or what there was of it, for her clothes hung on hangers over a long stretch of metal bar, not a cupboard wall in sight. The clothes were colour co-ordinated—sort of—and clearly some thought had gone into the mix and matchability of them. Lots of black and grey, and what colours there were had a vividness about them. No pretty pastels for Evie. Clearly that wasn’t her style.

He was contemplating getting out of bed but hadn’t quite got there yet when Evie returned with the coffee, robe on and hair gathered casually atop her head. The robe slid off one shoulder as she set the tray down on the bed and she raised her arm to slide the robe back into place with the absent-mindedness of someone who repeated that particular action often.

‘Lot of space up here,’ he said as she settled down carefully on the other side of the tray.

‘I know,’ said Evie. ‘It bothers some people. They’d rather sleep in a cave with the ceiling and walls tucked in close.’ She eyed him curiously. ‘Does it bother you?’

‘No.’ But parts of her statement did. ‘What people?’

‘The one or two people who’ve been invited up here over the past half a dozen years,’ she said evenly, lifting her coffee to her lips and taking a tiny sip. ‘Are you asking me how many men I’ve had in this bed?’

‘No.’ None of his business.

She looked at him and her eyebrow rose just a fraction.

‘Maybe,’ he admitted gruffly.

‘How many would you think?’

‘Not going near that one, Evie.’

‘Six,’ she said sweetly. ‘Though not all at once.’

Six was okay. Given Evangeline’s charm and enjoyment when it came to the pleasures of the flesh, six lovers in as many years was downright picky.

‘Anything else you’d like to know?’ she offered.

‘Really don’t want to know,’ he said quickly. Only a madman would ask her for details and he had no intention of doing so, and besides … he’d wanted her to explore her sexuality after he’d left her, hadn’t he? Wanted her to be sure of her preferences and to know her own mind.

Still did.

He looked around the room again and thought of the woman-child he’d once known and the woman Evie was now. ‘Tough profession, engineering,’ he said mildly.

Evie nodded, letting him change the subject.

‘Why’d you choose it?’

‘I wanted in on a highly paid and flexible profession that had the potential to take me anywhere. No relying on anyone else for my financial well-being or my status in society.’

That need hadn’t started with him. At least, Logan didn’t think it had. ‘Why the overwhelming need for independence?’

‘My mother’s been a trophy wife all her life. It’s hard work. Soul-destroying, at times. I guess I simply grew up not wanting it.’

‘Is that why your bedroom’s so spartan? Because you’re rebelling against the perfect-homemaker label?’

‘I hope not,’ she murmured. ‘Because that’d be stupid, considering I made this home for me. No, I just really like the minimalist aesthetic. Which is not to say I’m totally against a lavish touch at times, because I guarantee you’ll find one in the bathroom. Bubble bath, scented candles, fluffy towels.’

‘Sensualist,’ he murmured and Evie shot him a slow smile.

‘Rich, coming from you,’ she said. ‘I’ve never known anyone who savours sensuality the way you do. Who cherishes touch the way you do. Anyone would think you’d been starved of it as a child.’

‘My mother wasn’t demonstrative,’ he offered blandly. Evie had seen for herself what kind of relationship he had with his mother. His father’s hand had usually been hard and punishing, but those memories he kept to himself. Better a fist than no touch at all—that was the way the crazy ran for him at times. The reason why he’d taken so instinctively to pain play during lovemaking. He hadn’t needed a psychologist to tell him the why of that.

But not last night. Last night’s lovemaking with Evie had been positively, effortlessly normal.

‘Do you have any plans for today?’ he asked, and Evie shook her head and the vivid red silk robe slid from her shoulder again.

Pretty.

He bit into the cinnamon roll Evie had brought up with the coffee and it tasted sweet and flaky and sticky on his tongue.

‘I could show you round Sydney if you feel like playing tourist,’ she offered.

‘Can there be jet boats on the harbour involved?’

‘Yes.’

‘With me at the wheel?’

‘No.’ Evie rolled her eyes at him. ‘For that you’d have to buy the boat. Bridge climb?’

‘Too slow.’

‘Skydiving?’ she offered next. ‘I’m in a club.’

‘Why am I not surprised?’

‘Because you’re getting to know me,’ she offered dulcetly. ‘But in the interests of full disclosure, we could also head for the Botanic Gardens this morning and lie on the grass and listen to buskers play lazy Sunday-morning songs. That’d work for me too. I guess it all depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On whether you plan to stick around and slay a few more demons this week or whether after last night you already consider them vanquished, in which case my money’s on you leaving some time in the next ten minutes.’

Not only did this woman know her own mind, Logan thought uncomfortably, she also had a fair and accurate reading of his. ‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘No.’ She was breaking the other cinnamon roll into bits and he couldn’t see her eyes for eyelashes, but the steadiness of that no was reassuring.

‘You said you’d give me a week,’ he said.

‘And I will, if that’s what you want.’

She still wouldn’t look at him.

‘I do want,’ he said and leaned forward and snaked his hand through her hair and kissed her gently, and then a whole lot more thoroughly, on the lips. ‘But with wanting comes fear—of my nature and of yours and of the path we took last time. You scared me, Evie. With your compliance and with what you were prepared to give. You have no idea how much I wanted to take it all. And then demand more.’

‘You’re right,’ she said quietly and the gaze she pinned on him was dark and knowing. ‘I didn’t know the dangers of that particular road we were on. But I do now.’

‘If I break you I’ll never forgive myself.’

Truth.

‘You won’t break me, Logan. I know what I’m doing. I’ve got your back.’ As the gentle touch of her tongue to the corner of his mouth threatened to undo him. ‘And your front.’ Her hand slid slowly down his stomach, searching for stiffness and finding it. ‘Your measure.’

And he prayed to God that she did.