A Very Passionate Man Page 10

  ‘Well. Not much longer and you’ll be able to get back to it.’

  ‘I’m going to make sure I finish your decorating for you before I go back.’

  Biting back ‘don’t bother,’ Rowan murmured, ‘That’s up to you’, then took a hasty gulp of wine that almost made her choke.

  Evan’s gut clenched hard as if he’d just been kicked.

  Her painful silence tore at his conscience as Evan drove. The first part of their outing had been an unmitigated disaster and now, as he negotiated the sharp bends of narrow country roads with the added hazard of a heavy mist starting to fall, he wondered how he could rescue it.

  ‘I don’t think this is such a good idea after all.’ There, she’d said it. Watching Evan concentrate all his attention on the winding ribbon of grey tarmac ahead, Rowan knew he must be expecting such a comment. How could he not when they’d barely spoken two words between them since they’d left the pub?

  ‘Sweetheart, right now we don’t have a choice. We’re too far out to get back home in this fog and the hotel is just about another ten minutes away.’

  ‘Fine. Just as long as you know that I’ve no intention of sharing a room with you.’

  To her chagrin, Evan’s stern mouth suddenly split into a grin, and Rowan’s heart went racing like some wild animal let out of a trap. Watching the utterly competent and confident way he directed their vehicle through potentially treacherous roads in a rapidly descending mist, she couldn’t prevent the wave of heat that ebbed through her blood at the thought of sharing a bed with the man. The one time they had made love it had been passionate and urgent, with little thought to linger and take things slowly, but what would a whole night in Evan’s arms be like?

  ‘We’ll see,’ he replied, stealing a brief, amused glance at her indignant profile.

  ‘What does that mean? I’ve already told you my decision and I’m sticking to it!’

  ‘Protest any more and I might think you really want to spend the night with me.’ Keeping his eyes firmly on the road, Evan found himself anticipating their union with renewed longing. He’d been fooling himself if he thought that just one taste of her would ever be enough. She was like honey and chocolate: the more you had, the more you craved.

  ‘I hate you!’ Rowan exclaimed with passion.

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ Evan replied, his jaw firm as he accelerated out of a bend.

  CHAPTER NINE

  AFTER the shock of the size and grandeur of the country hotel, whose sweeping conifer-lined gravel drive Evan had smoothly pulled in to, Rowan stood in the centre of the suite he had booked and tried not to think of the money just one night was going to cost. What on earth had he been thinking of, bringing her here? It surely had to be one of the most expensive hotels in Wales—if not the most expensive.

  On their way up to their suite in the lift Evan had silenced her protest with one of his long, slow, impenetrable looks that dared her to argue, so Rowan had pursed her lips, heart pounding and legs trembling, as the lift doors swished open and they stepped out onto a sea of deep plum carpet behind the porter. Now, glancing around her at the deeply opulent furniture, heavy gold drapes and regal-looking prints adorning smooth, ivory-coloured walls, she sucked in her breath and let it out again slowly. Turning back into the room after tipping the porter, Evan briefly scraped his fingers through his thick dark hair, then glanced around him as if the sight that met his eyes was nothing out of the ordinary.

  ‘You shouldn’t have done this.’ Her voice alarmingly quavery, Rowan fixed him with a nervous stare.

  ‘Why not?’ He shrugged as he moved across the room, then dropped down into a striped winged armchair to the side of a marble mantelpiece as if he’d been born to such luxury.

  ‘I for one don’t want to be bankrupt.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting we share the cost.’ There was a slight chill to his tone that seemed to warn Rowan not to pursue this particular avenue of conversation if she knew what was good for her.

  ‘But Evan, I…’ Wringing her hands in front of her red sweater and long print skirt, Rowan wished she didn’t feel so seriously agitated about the whole thing, but she couldn’t let him get into financial difficulty just for one night in some pompously swanky hotel, could she?

  As he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, Evan’s green eyes were maddeningly amused. ‘Don’t tell me you’re worried I can’t afford it.’

  ‘Can you?’

  Right now his bank account was healthier than it had ever been, thanks to two years of dogged hard work and a few well-chosen investments—not to mention the steadily increasing revenue from his fitness outlets. But Evan didn’t think it was necessary right then to tell her that.

  ‘If I find myself unable to buy next week’s food, you can be sure I’ll be knocking on your door for dinner.’

  ‘That’s not funny.’

  ‘Where’s your sense of humour?’ Leaning back into his chair, Evan stretched out his long legs in front of him and relaxed, gratified at last to have the opportunity to survey Rowan at his leisure. If she only knew what that sexy red sweater did for her figure… He could even see the ridiculous appeal of the demure cotton skirt, dainty rosebuds and all. His blood heating, he pushed to his feet and walked towards her.

  ‘It’s not too late to tell the desk clerk we’ve changed our minds…’ Her voice died to a whisper as Evan’s hands came down on her shoulders and he stole the words out of her mouth with a deliberately provocative little smile.

  ‘I haven’t changed my mind. Can’t we forget about everything else for a few hours and just enjoy what we have right now?’

  Tipping up Rowan’s chin with warm, gentle fingers, he smiled into her troubled brown eyes. She thought she heard her heart go thump, but it was difficult to know, what with the sudden rush of blood to her head.

  ‘Let’s just take our time, then get ready for dinner…what do you say?’

  ‘Good idea. I won’t be long.’

  Before Evan had the chance to follow through on the long, lingering kiss he had in mind, Rowan slipped out of his arms and fled into the bedroom with her overnight bag.

  ‘There’s no…rush,’ he said to the empty room as the door shut firmly behind her.

  The room was warm, the company distracting—to say the least—and she had drunk a little more wine than was good for her. Now, as Rowan gazed across the beautifully laid dining table at her companion, she knew it was completely pointless to pretend for a second that she wasn’t wildly, irrevocably attracted to the man. There wasn’t a woman in the hotel who hadn’t glanced Evan’s way with deep appreciation in her eyes since they’d entered the building. And why shouldn’t they, when the man fair took your breath away with his distracting good looks and the way he held himself slightly aloof from everyone else? He’d surprised her by dressing in a tuxedo and matching dark trousers for dinner, and his expensive cologne made disturbing little asides into her senses every time she caught the scent of it. Rowan’s stomach turned cartwheels whenever he levelled those coolly implacable green eyes her way.

  Like now, as she surveyed him across the rim of her wine glass.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ she asked him dreamily, warmth creeping into her limbs and making her tingle.

  ‘I’m thinking that you’re a little tipsy.’ That compelling, sensual mouth of his quirked up at one corner in a sexy little half-smile. Immediately Rowan put down her glass and pushed a hand guiltily through her hair. The silky brown strands flopped back across her forehead, defying the new arrangement, and hot colour bloomed in her cheeks.

  ‘Are you worried I might show you up?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he drawled softly. ‘Besides…how could you not draw attention to yourself? You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, Rowan. I’m probably the envy of every man in the room.’

  It was a pretty compliment, but clearly not true, Rowan thought, feeling pained. There was no doubt Evan could turn on the charm by the cartload when he had
a mind to.

  ‘Then how come, if I’m so beautiful and desirable, my husband found the need to turn to someone else? Hmm? Answer me that if you can.’ Because she was upset, she took another generous swig of her wine, wincing slightly as the alcohol hit her stomach.

  ‘You know I can’t answer that. Would it help if I told you I think he must have been out of his mind?’

  ‘That’s the wine talking.’

  Evan’s green eyes narrowed as his hand curved deliberately around the stem of his wine glass. ‘You’re wrong. My glass is still full, see?’

  She saw. Biting down on her lip, she stared at the pristine white table linen. ‘I want to go and see Paul.’

  ‘Paul?’

  ‘Greg’s best friend. The one who told me about the…about the woman in Turkey.’

  Straightening in his chair, Evan gave very little away by his expression but his broad shoulders stiffened visibly. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘I need to know if she knew about me…if Greg told her he was married. It’s driving me slowly crazy not knowing these things. Maybe Paul can tell me why he—why Greg…’ Her voice broke and she dashed away an angry tear with the back of her hand.

  A muscle ticked in the side of Evan’s smooth, recently shaved jaw. He reached across the table to snag her hand. When she tugged it back, he captured her fingers firmly with his and held on tight.

  ‘Stop torturing yourself. Will it really make you feel any better to know the facts? Think about it, Rowan. What if you find out other things? Things you wished you hadn’t learned? Don’t buy trouble…that’s my advice to you, sweetheart.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say.’ Her heart pounding, Rowan snatched her hand away and rubbed it. She heard Evan sigh but refused to believe that he knew best. Look how he had dealt with his own betrayal. He’d become bitter and cynical and was clearly nursing more pain than he cared to admit. He was the last person from whom she should heed advice for the broken-hearted.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you’re hardly in a position to give advice, are you? What your wife did—it’s probably been eating you up inside every day since it happened. You loved her and when she betrayed you it hurt bad. Now it’s coloured your whole view on life. You don’t believe relationships can work or last…do you?’

  ‘For me personally? No…I don’t.’ Raising his glass to his lips, Evan drank some wine, but it was obvious it gave him little pleasure. ‘But we weren’t talking about me, were we? I was only trying to prevent you from further hurt…that’s all.’

  Did he know how impossible that was? Rowan raged against the despair that suddenly washed over her. Not only had Greg made a mockery of her trust and trampled all over her memories of their life together with his betrayal, but she was also now falling for a man who clearly had no intention of pursuing a relationship with her. Not now, not ever. Hot blades slicing into her skin couldn’t have done more damage.

  ‘I think I’d like to go back to our room.’

  Rising to her feet, she threw down her napkin and attempted to push back her chair. In her haste to get away she lost her balance and fell back onto the chair with an unladylike thump. Evan was beside her in an instant, his tall, imposing figure leaning over her to assist.

  ‘I can manage, thank you. I’m not an invalid!’

  ‘No, sweetheart. But I think the wine has gone to your head a little and—’

  ‘Are you saying I’m drunk?’ Her glare was mutinous, her cheeks a rosy, hot pink, and the soft brown hair spilling across her forehead made her resemble a little girl in the middle of a sulk.

  Amusement vied with regret as Evan deftly slid his arm around her small waist and helped her to her feet. She had every right to sulk and be angry he thought: she had heartbreak written all over her and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He signalled the waiter, told him to put their bill on his account and guided a no longer protesting Rowan firmly out of the dining room.

  Her head hurt and her eyes felt glued together. For several seconds, Rowan assured herself they were two very good reasons why she should stay put in bed. It was only when the luxurious comfort of this particular bed seemed to impinge on her senses that she remembered where she was, and a good reason why she should get up after all. Cautiously opening her eyes, she let out the breath she had been holding with a sigh of relief when she found herself to be alone. Nor was there the slightest sign that Evan had spent the night occupying the ample space next to her in the huge king-sized bed.

  All she recalled about last night was that, on returning to their suite after dinner, she had told Evan she was going to lie down because she had a headache. She’d left him in the main room sipping brandy, and on bidding her goodnight he’d treated her to yet another one of those ‘butterfly in the stomach’ enigmatic looks of his that conveyed very little of what he might be thinking yet made Rowan think feverishly about sex…

  But they hadn’t made love…had they? True, she’d imbibed more alcohol than she normally would have done, but surely she would have remembered if Evan had even given her so much as a goodnight kiss, let alone anything more intimate. His was a touch a woman wouldn’t forget in a hurry, and their first passionate encounter was scorched indelibly on her brain for all eternity. Scrambling for her robe at the end of the bed—a much loved 1920s silk kimono she had bought for a steal—she shrugged it on over her underwear and… Wait a minute. She didn’t remember stripping off down to her underwear to get into bed. All she remembered was lying on top of the sumptuous gold quilted eiderdown and shutting her eyes. So how had she…?

  Tiptoeing across the deep-pile carpet, Rowan sucked in a breath, secured the robe with its red silk tie and opened the door into the other room just the merest crack. Peering out, she located Evan standing at the window, fully dressed in black jeans and sweatshirt, arms folded across that wonderful chest of his, gazing out at the no-doubt imposing view.

  Her first instinct was to go to him, wrap her arms around his waist and suggest in her most seductive voice that they go back to bed and forget about breakfast. But only a woman confident of her charms could do such a thing, and right now Rowan’s self-confidence was at an all-time low. Betrayal didn’t do a hell of a lot for one’s esteem, that was for sure. And anyway, why should she assume that Evan would even want her after her behaviour at dinner last night? She’d deliberately been awkward, drunk too much, then to cap it all returned to their suite and gone straight to bed without so much as even thanking the man for taking the trouble to bring her somewhere so beautiful.

  ‘Are you going to stand there all day without saying good morning?’

  Evan had sensed her presence the very moment she opened the door. He turned to see her step reluctantly into the room, her hair delightfully mussed from sleep, expression cautious and that curvy little body of hers encased in a very fetching ivory silk kimono. Having undressed her last night and put her to bed, Evan knew that underneath that kimono she had on very little. Two sky-blue scraps of satin and lace that on Rowan’s delectable body were enough to end the resolve of even the most hardened celibate.

  ‘How did you…?’ Blushing, she moved into the room.

  ‘I’m psychic, didn’t I tell you?’

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  Remembering the deep sense of foreboding he’d had about Rowan going to that party in London, Evan wasn’t so sure.

  ‘Sleep well?’

  ‘About that.’ She slipped her hair behind her ear and smiled sheepishly. That smile went straight to a region he was desperately trying to keep out of this conversation. ‘I’m sorry I was such poor company last night. I didn’t mean to drink quite so much wine and fall asleep so early.’

  ‘No harm done.’ Except maybe to my pride, Evan thought wryly. ‘Was it a comfortable bed?’

  To her total embarrassment, Rowan felt her cheeks flame red. ‘It was fine, thanks. Where did you sleep?’

  He jerked his head towards the
maroon velvet cushions of the chaise longue. ‘It’s surprising how comfortable those things are.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For spoiling your evening. You obviously thought that you—that we—I mean…’

  ‘That I had a little seduction planned?’ His green eyes glimmered as they moved over Rowan with no pretence about appreciating the view. ‘That I can’t deny.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry you were disappointed.’

  ‘Where is it written in stone that seduction is a prerequisite of night-time only?’ His voice lowered to a huskier cadence, and Evan moved across the room to stand in front of her.

  Faced with those broad, muscular shoulders, that amazing chest and a mouth that promised to take her to heaven and back, Rowan felt her knees quake, and it took some strength of will for her to even reply. ‘I don’t—I can’t treat sex as some kind of recreation, Evan…even if—even if I’m attracted to you. Greg was the first and only man I’d been intimate with until I met you and I can’t change the kind of person I am. Do you understand?’

  His expression intense, Evan traced the shape of her mouth with his forefinger, regret vying with blazing need in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘I’m not asking you to change the kind of woman you are, Rowan, but you can’t ask me to pretend that I don’t desire you.’ His lips quirked a little with wry humour. ‘Right now that would be nigh on…impossible.’

  Had she ever been presented with this much temptation before? Rowan didn’t think so. Yet did she really want to bring more heartache down on her head by getting more deeply involved with Evan? She was already afraid she was starting to care for him too much, and God knew that it was going to hurt when he finally went back to London and his job. Then loneliness would really hit.

  ‘Yes, but you want intimacy without engaging your feelings and I can’t not engage mine. If you just want a fling with someone, then I’m afraid it can’t be me.’