Marriage Under the Mistletoe. Helen Lacey

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СКАЧАТЬ 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, not sure why he was suggesting it.

      She shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly.”

      “Why not? Do you already have plans?”

      “I’m not exactly the adventurous type.”

      “It’s not bungee jumping, Evie. It’s a board, a sail, some wind and a bit of balance. Can you swim?” he asked.

      Evie nodded. “Of course.”

      “Then you can probably sailboard,” he said, and an idea formed in his head. “I’ll teach you.”

      She didn’t bother to conceal her surprise. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

      “Sure it is,” he said easily, and smiled. “I’m on vacation, remember? You don’t want to ruin it by refusing to help me enjoy the sights of your little town, do you?”

      “No,” she said after a long, cautious-looking moment. Finally she smiled back. “I guess I don’t.”

      “If it makes you feel better, we could get Trevor to come as a chaperone?” he suggested, smiling to himself.

      She frowned and he liked the way her nose wrinkled when she worked out he was teasing her. “We hardly need a chaperone,” she said purposely, and her green eyes lit up with a kind of defiance. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

      Scott wasn’t sure what the feeling was that pitched in his chest. Relief maybe? The idea of spending time with Evie pleased him. Too much.

      They said good-night, lingered over the words for a few moments before Scott left the kitchen and headed to his room. He had a restless night. The time zone difference caught up with him and he spent most of the night lying on his back in the big bed, staring at the ceiling. And he thought about Evie just a few doors away.

      He’d planned to go into Bellandale the following morning and hire a car. He needed wheels—and didn’t want to spend every day until the wedding hanging around the B and B like loose change.

      He’d come to Crystal Point for his sister’s wedding. Only he hadn’t expected Evie.

      Scott tossed in the bed, looked at the digital clock on the small table to his left and pumped the pillow with his fist. I’ve had too much sleep...and too much coffee...and way too much Evie for one evening.

      He thumped the pillow again, dropped his head back and closed his eyes.

      * * *

      Why is there a motorcycle in my driveway?

      And not the basic model, either. This was huge and powerful and clearly designed for cruising. Evie grabbed the pair of planet-friendly shopping bags from the passenger seat of her Honda and stared at the big, noisy-looking machine parked in front of her studio. She figured out who the culprit was once she went upstairs and spotted two helmets on the kitchen table and a leather jacket hanging on the back of a chair.

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