Part 11 (2/2)

”Don't say anything.” Raising his hand, he backed away from her. ”Just don't.”

Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she didn't speak again. She just looked at him with those beautiful, devastated eyes. Eyes that cut him as cleanly as any blade.

Her knuckles were white where she clutched the fabric of her dress. Her hand was shaking. He hated himself for doing that to her. He hated it that he'd touched her. That he'd shown such utter disrespect to a woman he'd promised to take care of. Hated it even more that he didn't have the guts to stay and make it right for the simple reason that he didn't trust himself.

Turning away from her, he crossed to the door. She called out his name, but he didn't stop. He jerked it open and stepped onto the porch. He sensed her behind him, but he didn't turn around. Instead, he slammed the door in her face and ran like the coward he was all the way to his truck.

CHAPTER NINE.

Alison dropped two slices of bread into the toaster while margarine melted in a skillet on the stove. She tried hard not to think about Drew and what had happened between them last night. For all the success she was having, she may as well have been splitting atoms. How was it that a contemporary, independent woman such as herself could do something so utterly foolish?

”Because you're an idiot,” she muttered, fis.h.i.+ng the spatula out of the drawer.

From the bathroom, she could hear Kevin rummaging around for the sun block she'd told him to stow in his backpack. ”It's in the top left drawer, honey,” she shouted.

”I can't find it.”

Crossing to the refrigerator, she snagged an egg and a carton of milk from the shelf. ”I'll find it for you in a minute. Why don't you put on your sneakers then come out and eat your breakfast.”

”'Kay!”

It was already seven forty-five and Kevin hadn't even eaten and she still had to pack his medicine and supplies for the day. Drew was going to arrive in fifteen minutes. Of all the days for her to oversleep, why did it have to be today?

But Alison knew good and well why she'd overslept. Because she'd spent the entire night either staring at the ceiling or the alarm clock, agonizing over what had happened. Toward morning, she'd dozed for short periods, but every time she did, images of the way he'd kissed her, of the way his hands had felt on her body a.s.sailed her. She wasn't sure which was worse-the disturbing realization that she'd liked it or the knowledge that it could never happen again.

Standing next to the stove, she closed her eyes at the memory, felt a hot flush creep into her cheeks. She simply couldn't believe what she'd done. One kiss, she could understand. After all, she liked and respected Drew. She'd known him for six years; they were friends. He was a good man. He was attractive.

But last night had changed everything and set them adrift in uncharted waters. How on earth was she supposed to handle this? For G.o.d's sake, he'd been her husband's best friend. He'd been her friend. That was all she wanted him to be. And yet a part of her wanted more. A whole lot more.

She could still feel the insistent pressure of his mouth against hers. Still smell the subtle, out-of-doors scent of his aftershave. She could still feel the way his hands caressed her body. The way he'd lifted her and stepped between her legs and opened her. The ensuing heat had burned as if she'd been on fire. She couldn't ever remember aching like that. He'd given her one of the most explosive o.r.g.a.s.ms she'd ever had in her life. The rightness of it warred with the innate wrongness. That war had torn at her throughout the night. Still tore at her. Like a gale wind at a tattered sail, and a boat careening out of control...

The sound of the doorbell jolted her. Gasping, her heart slamming hard against her ribs, Alison spun. The egg in her hand slipped. She made a sound of disgust as it splattered on the floor at her feet. Suddenly she was aware of Kevin's toast burning. She crossed to the toaster and flipped it up, but the bread popped up blackened and smoking.

The doorbell rang again. Glancing down at the egg on the tile, she crossed to the paper towel holder and yanked off two sheets, only to have the back of her hand knock over the carton of milk. She tried to keep the carton from falling, but she wasn't fast enough and it went over the side of the counter and hit the floor, spattering milk all over the cabinets and her ankles on impact.

”d.a.m.n it,” she muttered.

”Mommy, I can't find my sneakers.” Kevin walked into the kitchen s.h.i.+rtless and shoeless, looking adorable in his Spider-Man undies and little white socks. He stopped just inside the door, his gaze falling to the mess. ”How come there's a egg on the floor?”

”An egg,” she corrected. ”And it's there because Mommy's got ten thumbs this morning.”

”Ten thumbs?” He looked at her hands. ”Nuh-uh.”

She sighed when the doorbell rang again. ”Your sneakers are in the utility room because I washed them. Don't forget to put on a T-s.h.i.+rt.”

”'Kay.”

Taking the paper towels with her, she rushed out of the kitchen to the front door. Her nerves sizzled as she crossed the foyer and reached for the k.n.o.b. Closing her eyes briefly, she took a deep breath then swung open the door.

Drew stood on the porch with his hands in the pockets of faded, cutoff jeans that were stretched snugly over lean hips. He wore a blue T-s.h.i.+rt that was just tight enough for her to see the outline of rock-hard abs and a chest that was rounded with muscle. The cap he wore touted ”Water Flight Tours” and he wore it with the brim turned backward. He looked like a man about to embark on a serious fis.h.i.+ng expedition.

Alison stared at him, aware that her pulse was pounding. For some reason her mouth had gone bone dry, and for the life of her she couldn't think of a single thing to say that didn't have to do with chiseled lips or stormy blue eyes or a scowl that was a lot more appealing than it should have been.

Lord have mercy, Drew Evans was an attractive man. Why on earth hadn't she noticed that before? It wasn't like after six years that fact should suddenly shock her. But it did-right down to her toes.

Alison knew better than to let the sight of all that male beauty shake her. d.a.m.n it, she was already shaken enough remembering what had happened between them the night before. She was so shaken up, in fact, she hadn't even been able to pull off making her son's breakfast without turning the kitchen into a disaster zone.

Still, her eyes were drawn to him, past broad shoulders and a flat stomach to a part of his anatomy she did not want to think about. The shorts came to mid-thigh and she found her eyes taking in the powerful-looking muscles and sprinkling of black hair....

”Good morning,” she said a little too quickly, and a whole lot breathlessly. ”You're early.”

He frowned slightly, looking at her from behind aviator's sungla.s.ses, and she found herself wis.h.i.+ng desperately that she could see his eyes. Just so she would know what he was thinking. Not that she'd ever been able to get inside Drew Evans's mind. But she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking about this morning-the same thing she was-and the memory brought a hot blush to her cheeks.

Because she didn't know what else to say, she stepped aside. ”Come in.”

He hesitated.

”I was just fixing Kevin some breakfast. Would you like some? It won't take five minutes for me to whip up some eggs and toast.” Oh, G.o.d, she was blabbering. How was she supposed to fix this man breakfast when her hands were shaking so badly, all she seemed capable of was breaking eggs and spilling milk? ”Would you like some scrambled eggs and toast?”

”Ah, no thanks. I already ate.”

Turning away, she started toward the kitchen aware that her legs were shaking, that her pulse was pounding and that her every sense was honed on the man behind her.

”Where's Kevin?” he asked.

”Putting on his sneakers.” She took a deep breath. ”I'm sorry he's not ready to go yet. We overslept.”

”No problem.”

She entered the kitchen, went directly to the refrigerator and chose another egg. Drew paused at the doorway. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him looking down at the broken egg and spilled milk and wished she'd taken the time to clean them. She didn't want him to get the wrong idea.

At the stove, she turned on the flame and cracked the egg. Once it started sizzling, she stooped to clean up the broken one.

”Alison, about last night-”

”Don't apologize,” she blurted, scooping the yolk into the paper towel.

He sighed. ”I didn't mean for that to happen. I'm sorry.”

Relieved that she had something to do besides look at him, she concentrated on sopping up the egg and ordered her nerves to settle. ”It happened. We'll deal with it.”

”Alison-”

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