His Best Friend's Wife Page 7

  He hadn’t planned to invite her to join him again next Wednesday. The words had just popped out of him as she was turning to leave. He didn’t know if she would show up or, more likely, if she would talk herself out of it. As if he were somehow following the direction of Evan’s thoughts, Tate nodded somberly.

  “It’s complicated,” Evan said.

  “I know.”

  Because this was neither the time nor place to discuss those complications, Evan turned toward the door. “I think we’ve been seen by everyone. I’m getting out of here.”

  “Hang on, I’ll come with you. I told Kim I’d be home for dinner. You’re welcome to join us, if you like.”

  Evan declined politely. He had a phone call he needed to make.

  * * *

  The children were in bed and Lucy was in the kitchen having a long telephone gossipfest with a friend from church when Evan’s name popped up on Renae’s phone that evening. Relieved that she didn’t have to explain the call to anyone, she took it in her bedroom.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  There was no easy answer to that outwardly simple question, considering the emotional wringer she’d been through since she had left his apartment the evening before. She settled for a vague, “I’m fine, thank you. You?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. And the kids? They’re doing okay?”

  “They’re fine, too. They’re in bed now.”

  “I thought they might be. I hope I’m not calling too late.”

  “No, it’s okay. How was your day?” she asked for lack of anything else to say.

  “I went to a networking thing—cocktails, small talk. Boring.”

  She couldn’t imagine him enjoying that sort of gathering. “I’m sure it’s a good way to keep your company name out there.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Tate says. He’s better at those things than I am, which is why I push him as the public face of our business. But I mentioned the scholarship to a few people and got some pledges for donations.”

  “That’s great.”

  They chatted a few minutes longer about the party, the scholarship, her day at work, and then Evan said he was sure she had things to do. After they disconnected, Renae thought about how he had not mentioned what had happened between them yesterday, nor his invitation for next week.

  He was giving her space, she decided. Subtly checking on her while making an effort not to pressure her. But somehow, even without directly referring to it, he’d left her thinking of their lovemaking, replaying it in her mind, aroused all over again—and for some reason, she thought he knew it.

  She had stayed deliberately busy since she’d left him, telling herself she wasn’t yet ready to analyze her impulsive actions, and certainly not ready to decide what she was going to do next week. Part of her—the sensible widowed mother and dutiful daughter-in-law part—ordered her to stop this now, before it spiraled out of control.

  As if it hadn’t already.

  Another part of her—the young, healthy, single woman with natural needs and urges—ached to be with Evan again. It whispered temptingly at the back of her mind that she could have her cake and eat it, too—that she could keep her trysts with Evan separate from her “real life.” That when she was with him, she could focus solely on the moment without worrying about the future or dwelling on the past. Was that crazy?

  Lucy would certainly think so.

  Groaning, she hid her face in her hands, calling herself every synonym for idiot she could remember spontaneously. If she had any sense at all, she would keep her distance from Evan.

  If she wanted male companionship, she had other options. She could accept some of the matchmaking offers that had been directed her way. Or Mike Bishop was still available, and he was a nice guy. Good-looking. Nice kids. No past baggage between them, though he surely had scars from his divorce, even if it had seemed amicable enough to the outside observer.

  Lucy might have a little trouble adjusting to Renae having an adult social life, but she would come around eventually. Especially if Renae went out with men who had no connection at all to the past.

  The problem was, not one of the safe, relatively uncomplicated men Renae had recently encountered made her heart race or her skin tingle just at the thought of him. Not one of them haunted her dreams or popped into her mind at the most inconvenient times during a busy day. And yet not one of them made her stomach knot with guilt and doubt and resentment and something that hovered all too closely to fear, either.

  How foolish would she be to deliberately become entangled with the one man who made her feel all of those things?

  * * *

  Evan checked his watch for probably the third time in fifteen minutes. It was only five minutes past the time Renae had been showing up for their Wednesday meetings, but today those extra minutes seemed like an ominous sign.

  He had told himself not to be surprised if she didn’t show. He wasn’t even expecting her, really, he assured himself. His invitation had hardly been smooth, certainly not romantic. Just, “I’ll be here if you want to show up.” He couldn’t blame her for staying away, considering everything.

  Even if it never happened again, he hoped Renae would remember the hour they had spent together last week without regrets or self-recrimination. They could tell themselves they had fulfilled some needs, satisfied an old curiosity. If that was the end of it, he hoped they could put their tangled feelings behind them and keep their future interactions pleasant. He would do everything he could to keep his own emotions deeply buried, leaving only the congenial old friend in place.

  Releasing a sigh, he stood, turning toward the kitchen. He’d brought home Mexican takeout—he might as well eat. Maybe he would give Renae a friendly call later in the week, just to let her know he understood and that there were no hard feelings, though he probably wouldn’t put it in so many words.

  He froze when the buzzer sounded.

  Swallowing hard, he crossed the room and pressed the release button. They could just talk, he assured himself. In fact, he wanted to talk with Renae. There was so much he didn’t know about her life for the past seven years, so much he wanted to learn about her. They could have a real conversation that was not focused solely on the scholarship.

  He opened the door to her, making an effort to keep his smile easy, to hide his surprise that she was there. Though she looked as beautiful as ever in a deep purple sweater and charcoal pants, her expression was somber and understandably wary.

  Hoping to set her at ease, he closed the door behind her and motioned toward the kitchen. “I picked up chicken enchiladas. I hope you like Mexican food. Thought we could talk while we eat, if you want.”

  She smoothed her hands over the front of her pants, an unconsciously nervous gesture that revealed more than her expression. She turned then to face him. “I didn’t come here to eat. Or to talk.”

  He could already feel his blood warming. He found the combination of vulnerability and defiance in her vivid blue eyes very appealing—but that was hardly a surprise, since nearly everything about Renae appealed to him.

  He cleared his throat. “So why are you here?”

  She spread her hands, her nose wrinkling in an endearing manner that sent his hot blood surging downward. “I think I came to tell you that I don’t believe we should keep doing this.”

  Moving toward her, he kept his eyes on her face. “It’s your call, of course.”

  “It’s too complicated.”

  He nodded without stopping. “Yes.”

  She put up a hand when he reached her, but rather than hold him off, she rested her palm over his heart. She had to feel it banging against his chest. “It’s irresponsible,” she said.

  “Maybe.” He rested his hands on the upper curves of her hips.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. We’re two young, healthy adults who happen to find each other attractive. That’s all.”

  She seemed to stress the word young. Was she feeling her thirty years today? Would she
believe him if he told her he thought she was absolutely stunning? That he wouldn’t change a thing about her? Maybe his best bet was simply to show her.

  He spoke with his mouth only a breath away from hers. “I can agree with that.”

  He brushed his lips against hers. Once, then again. Paused on the third pass to catch her lower lip just for a moment, then released it to press a full kiss on her mouth. He felt her fingers tighten on his chest, and then her arms were around his neck, her body flattened against his. Her lips parted, and he took advantage of the implied invitation, deepening the kiss with a thrust of his tongue.

  He both heard and felt the soft moan that vibrated deep in her chest. He had never heard anything more arousing than the sounds Renae made when he kissed her, caressed her. He lifted her against him and she wrapped herself more snugly around him.

  He didn’t really want to talk just then, either.

  * * *

  “I can’t find my right shoe. Do you see it?”

  Fully dressed except for his own shoes, Evan sat on the bed, his back against the headboard, and watched as Renae wandered around the bedroom, still straightening her clothes as she searched for her other shoe. “Did you look under the bed?”

  She dropped down to the floor and he admired the view as she peered under the edge of the comforter. “Not there.”

  “Maybe you left it in the living room.” He swung his legs over the side and helped her to her feet, letting his hand linger just for a moment at the small of her back. He thought he’d be physically satisfied by now but the feel of her beneath his palm made his pulse rate trip.

  Her cheeks seemed to go a shade pinker and he thought maybe he wasn’t the only one reacting to the contact, but she moved away before he could be certain. Carrying her left shoe in her hand, she moved toward the doorway. “I’ll go look. I can hardly go home wearing one shoe.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think you look cute barefoot.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him, but she didn’t smile. Swallowing, he followed her out of the room.

  At the same time, they spotted the lone shoe lying in the short hallway just outside the bedroom. Renae pounced on it and quickly donned the pair. “Now, where did I leave my purse?”

  “Food,” he reminded her. “Enchiladas. All I have to do is pop them in the microwave.”

  She tucked one stray strand of blond hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to how sleek and tidy it looked despite their earlier activities. He was both impressed and a little daunted by how quickly and thoroughly she could hide any evidence of their lovemaking.

  “Thanks, but I should go,” she said without quite meeting his eyes. “I’ll eat something later.”

  He caught her arm, stopping her restless movements and causing her to look up at him. “You’ve been here less than forty-five minutes. Surely you can take an extra few minutes to eat. Or are you running again?”

  Her chin lifted a little and he could tell he’d piqued her pride—which, he had to admit to himself, had been his intention. “I’m not running.”

  “Are you afraid to sit down and talk with me for a few minutes?”

  “Of course not. Why would I be afraid?”

  Maybe she feared that he would make her face things she wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge?

  “I can’t imagine,” he said blandly. “Have a seat, Renae. I promise I won’t keep you long.”

  She looked torn between escaping and staying to prove that she wasn’t intimidated. He was gratified when she moved toward the table rather than the door. “Fine. I’ll eat.”

  He knew better than to grin, but he did allow himself a small smile.

  They were making progress.

  Chapter Five

  At the table, Evan made an effort to keep the conversation completely innocuous. “So, how long have you worked at the eye clinic?”

  Still looking distracted, Renae stabbed her fork into the red-sauce-covered enchilada on her plate. “A little over a year. Since they opened.”

  “Dr. Sternberg seemed nice. Did a good job fitting my new contact lenses.”

  She nodded. “I like him, and his wife, Dr. Boshears. They’re a very nice couple, good to work for.”

  “I mentioned to Dr. Sternberg that I knew you. I could tell he considers you a valuable member of the team.”

  She sipped her iced tea.

  He searched for another topic that wouldn’t edge too closely to the painful subjects they were both avoiding for now. “Got any big plans with the kids this weekend? The weather’s supposed to be pretty much perfect for mid-November.”

  “We talked about going to the zoo Saturday, since it’s supposed to be so pleasant. They love the zoo.”

  Asking about the kids seemed to be one way to get her to talk—he couldn’t miss the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of them. “I never did see the Halloween photos you promised to show me.”

  Looking as though she wasn’t sure he really wanted to see them, she punched a button on her phone and slid it toward him. He studied the screen, smiling at the two little superheroes posed dramatically in the photo. “Cute.”

  “Thanks.”

  The next photo was more of a close-up of the twins without their masks, huge grins on their faces as they showed off plastic pumpkins filled with candy. “This is their haul?”

  “Yes. Our neighborhood really gets into Halloween.”

  “So I see. They must have had a great time.”

  “They did.”

  He glanced at the phone again before handing it back to her. He couldn’t help feeling that Jason looked back at him from those fresh young faces. He didn’t want to think about what Jason might say about Evan and Renae being together, even in this very tenuous way. Instead, he found himself wondering if he would ever meet his old friend’s children.

  Before he could figure out a way to ask, she set her fork on her plate, indicating she was finished eating. “What about you? Taking the bike out this weekend? There should be some fall color left to admire Saturday.”

  He picked up his plate, stacked hers on top of it and moved toward the kitchen. “I sold my bike a week after the funeral. Haven’t been on one since.”

  She sounded shocked when she said, “But you loved riding.”

  “I did.” He wouldn’t tell her now—maybe not ever—about the nightmares that had haunted him for so long after that last ride.

  She sat silently behind him, processing his admission.

  Rejoining her, he said lightly, “I still like rides in the country on a rare free afternoon. I just take my truck now.”

  This would probably be the time to talk about the accident. About the grief and regret he’d felt afterward, and what he would give to go back and change the events of that day. Yes, it was complicated, considering his feelings for Renae. Like most men, he tended to avoid deep, emotion-based discussions—but maybe it would be good for them to get those things out in the open.

  “I really do have to get home,” Renae said, rising to her feet.

  Now she really was running, he figured. From the memories their mention of the motorcycle had stirred. From the conversation that was becoming more inevitable every time they were together—and which they both dreaded for reasons of their own.

  Though they had said little of substance while they’d eaten, he was glad that they had at least taken that small amount of time for conversation. He wanted to make it clear that sex wasn’t the only reason he had invited her to join him today—though he wouldn’t blame her for doubting that, since they seemed to fall into each other’s arms now every time they were alone together.

  On an impulse, he said, “Maybe next week we could meet at a restaurant? You know, for a nice meal?”

  It must have been too much, and maybe too soon after the oblique reference to Jason’s accident. He could almost see Renae draw back even further. “I, uh—”

  “Or we could meet here again,” he said smoothly.

  Renae ran a hand
over her hair though it was already immaculate. She looked at him gravely, all vulnerability hidden now, her expression hard to read. “I don’t know what we’re doing here, exactly. But I do know we’re playing with fire.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not playing.”

  Like her, he didn’t know exactly what was happening between them. Where it might lead, other than to more regrets. But he wanted to make it very clear he wasn’t toying with her. That he was as much a prisoner to this magnetism between them as she seemed to be. Maybe just as much an unwilling captive.

  He hadn’t been looking for an entanglement with anyone—certainly not a woman who came with as many obstacles as Renae. The past. Her kids. Her mother-in-law. He’d be crazy to even think about getting mixed up with her in more than this superficially physical way.

  And yet he heard himself saying, “I’ll be here next week.”

  She blinked, then lifted her chin and moved toward the door. Was she not even going to say good-night?

  He caught her arm to stop her. She looked composed and confident, but when he studied her eyes, he saw just how misleading that impression was. Sighing a little, he brushed a kiss over her mouth.

  “Just think about it,” he said when he released her and stepped away.

  She nodded and let herself out without speaking, leaving him to wonder once more if he would see her again.

  And why he wanted so badly to do so, considering the pain she had caused him in the past.

  * * *

  In response to an emailed request from Tate, Renae flipped through an old photo album Thursday evening looking for an appealing shot of Jason to use on the scholarship website. They didn’t want a formal, posed photograph, but something casual, laughing—something very representative of Jason.

  She chose a snapshot she had taken of him only a few months before his death. In it, he stood on a boulder at the top of Petit Jean Mountain on a clear summer day with blue sky above him and the green-and-blue Arkansas River Valley spread behind him. A breeze tossed his dark hair and his polished-ebony eyes had sparkled with amusement and energy. The shot had captured Jason perfectly. She had the photo stored in her computer, so it would work well for the website.