His Best Friend's Wife. GINA WILKINS

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      So much for keeping her unwanted reactions to sexy Evan Daugherty firmly under control.

       Chapter Two

      Holding her head high and keeping her smile as relaxed as possible considering the chaos inside her, Renae stepped past Evan, looking around his home as she entered. The furnishings were tasteful—minimal, but nicely accented with plants. No surprise there, since that was Evan’s career specialty.

      “Very nice,” she said, moving to admire the panorama of the north bank of the Arkansas River and the Little Rock skyline on the other side. The swirling river water reflected the deepening blue sky and mirrored the trees splashed with fall color. The scenery brightened up the beige-on-beige decor inside Evan’s apartment.

      “I have to admit that view is why I chose this place.”

      She realized Evan had stepped next to her to admire the panaroma, standing so close that an unguarded movement would cause their arms to touch. While she did not suspect he meant anything by the proximity other than affable view-sharing, she still moved away. “Something smells good.”

      He remained where he was, keeping a respectable distance between them. “I picked up dinner on the way here. I hope you still like pizza.”

      “Doesn’t everyone?” Ignoring his implication that he remembered her fondness for pizza, she glanced toward the other end of the room. Three flat boxes sat on a dining table on the other side of a low serving bar, next to plates, napkins, flatware and a stack of papers she assumed to be scholarship materials. “Three pizzas? Just how many people are on this committee?”

      “Three,” he admitted rather sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure what toppings you like, so I got an assortment. I’ll dine on the leftovers for a few days.”

      “When it comes to pizza, I’m not picky.”

      “Can I get you something to drink while we wait for Tate? Or we could dig in and let him catch up when he gets here. I know your time is limited.”

      His cell phone buzzed before she could answer. “That’s Tate,” he said with a glance at the screen. “There are drinks in the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. Help yourself while I find out what’s keeping him.”

      She had just poured diet cola over ice when Evan joined her in the kitchen. She could tell by his expression what he was going to say even before he spoke.

      “I’m sorry, but something has come up and Tate can’t make it. Looks like it’s just you and me.”

      Renae swallowed hard and set the soda can down with a thump.

      It flashed through her mind that Lucy would surely accuse Evan of arranging this so he would have Renae alone. Renae rejected that possibility as soon as it occurred to her. Judging by Evan’s expression, he was just as dismayed as she was that they wouldn’t have Tate as a buffer.

      He must have seen the reservations in her eyes. “If you’d rather reschedule when Tate can join us …”

      She shook her head, telling herself she was being foolish. Keeping her expression schooled and her voice brisk, she picked up her glass and moved toward the table. “Since I’m here, let’s take a look at what you have. I brought some information about other private scholarship programs, if you’d be interested in seeing it.”

      He nodded cordially, matching her impersonal tone. “Yes, of course. Have a seat and help yourself to pizza, and we’ll go through the notes Tate and I have compiled so far.”

      She sank into one of the four chairs at the slate-topped, bar-height table, hoping he would sit across from her, well out of accidental touching distance. Instead, he chose the place to her right, pulling a pizza box and a stack of papers toward them.

      All too aware of how close he sat, of his elbow almost brushing hers when he moved, of the way he looked at her every time she glanced his way, she reached quickly for a file folder.

      As he had warned her, the progress thus far was somewhat haphazard. At this point, the award was only a thousand dollars, but that helped with books and supplies. Evan and Tate had paid the scholarship out of their own pockets for the one check they had awarded thus far, but they’d started an account for future donations. They’d had several modest contributions from friends and associates. Financially, the program seemed to be off to a fair start, though Evan admitted they’d had little time to initiate fundraising efforts. He’d thought about sending out a letter to their old friends from high school and college, but he wasn’t very good at composing those things, he admitted.

      “I can draft the letter,” Renae offered, making a note on the pad she’d opened beside her. She seemed to have stepped in as secretary of this informal committee, but that was fine with her. It played to her particular strengths and made her feel that she made a valuable contribution to the cause—and most of her input could be through email, she couldn’t help thinking.

      Keeping her gaze on the paperwork, she listened to Evan’s explanation of the direction he and Tate had in mind for the scholarship and offered a few suggestions of her own. He was very receptive to her ideas, making annotations of his own to share with Tate later, and she was gratified by how open he was to her input.

      The first recipient of the Jason Sanchez Memorial Scholarship had been nineteen-year-old Stuart O’Hara, who had since become newlywed Tate’s brother-in-law. There had been no formal application—Tate had offered Stuart the scholarship on an impulse when the young man had announced that he would not be attending college because of finances and other family issues. Evan had gone along because he and Tate had been discussing the establishment of a scholarship anyway, and he figured it was time to get started.

      When Renae saw how seriously the young man was taking the honor, she felt a bit more comfortable with the nepotism of that first award. Evan had printed out three emails Stuart had sent about his academic progress that semester, each ending with a repetition of his gratitude for their assistance.

      “He has an academic scholarship paying for his tuition and a student loan to cover living expenses, but this thousand-dollar award for books and supplies seems to mean a lot to him,” Evan explained. “I think it’s because he was on the verge of not attending college at all when Tate offered him our scholarship as a sign of faith in him. He was at a point in his life when he needed to hear that, I guess. Apparently, there were some family issues holding him back. But he seems to have committed himself completely to making a success of college. That’s why he keeps emailing us about his grades, even though he’s only been in school a couple of months. Tate’s actually had to remind him to make a little time for fun.”

      “Stuart sounds like a good kid,” Renae said, glancing again at the grateful notes.

      Evan nodded. “I haven’t actually met him, but from what Tate has told me, he is.”

      She should have known better than to meet his eyes. Their gazes held, and she felt a shiver of awareness course through her. It had been too long since she’d been near an attractive man, too long since she had felt physical awareness warm her blood.

      She forced her attention back to her notes. Was she really so starved for a man’s attention? How foolish.

      Sure, she was young and there were times when she longed for a man’s touch. She’d told herself she would date again, once the twins were a little older and her schedule СКАЧАТЬ