whatever it was, brought back memories of last night, and those were some darn good memories.
She unlocked the door while he held her, and he shouldered it open. She thought he’d put her down once they passed into the hall, but he didn’t. He carried her straight back to the bedroom.
“Maybe we should open a bottle of wine first,” she suggested, hoping alcohol might ease her anxiety as much as it had last night.
“No,” he said. “You’re going to have to cope with your nerves. I want to feel everything, and I want you to feel it, too. And it’s already after midnight. I’m not wasting any time.”
He didn’t sound like a guy who was just looking for a warm body, for whom any warm body would do. Eve didn’t get that, since he fit the stereotype in every other way. “Why? Why does this night mean so much to you—without meaning anything at all?” she asked.
“You remind me of someone,” he admitted.
Finally, she understood.
That
was why he wasn’t interested in Noelle or another woman.
Eve wasn’t thrilled to learn the truth, but at least he was being honest. “I see. What’s her name?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Can you tell me where she lives?”
He put her down on the bed. “Does it matter?”
“You’re the one who’s acting like it does.”
“Montana.”
“Did you leave her or—”
“It didn’t work out between us. She’s married to someone else now.”
Somehow that made this far less frightening than it had been a moment ago. It also made it less exciting to know he’d have his mind on someone else. But God, this guy could kiss. And once he started kissing her, it was easy to forget that she wasn’t really the woman he wanted.
* * *
Eve was less like Laurel than Rex had thought. She talked differently, moved differently, responded differently to the things he did. At first he feared he’d built up the similarities between the two women so much that making love to Eve wouldn’t be as satisfying as he’d hoped. But the more he touched her, the more he forgot about Laurel and the more he enjoyed exploring this new woman.
Physically, Eve was flawless, but he hadn’t taken her to bed because of that. He was looking for something else and, even though she wasn’t Laurel, she held a certain...promise. He liked that there was no history between them, none of the turbulence that had ended up tainting his relationship with Laurel. Despite the doubts he’d caused by being so secretive, Eve treated him as though he was what he seemed to be—a professional, successful thirtysomething businessman. That gave him a sense of freedom he’d never had with his best friend’s sister. When he was with Eve, it was as if he’d never been “Pretty Boy,” as The Crew called him. As if he’d never been the kid who’d screwed up and encouraged his little brother to jump off that ledge when they were cliff-diving or the angry teen who’d turned to drugs to numb the pain of being responsible for that brother’s loss. Here, in this town, he could almost believe the image he saw reflected in Eve’s eyes, felt almost as deserving of good things as everyone else.
“I can’t imagine the devil kissing any better than you do,” she told him.
“That’s because the devil taught me everything I know,” he said, and nearly chuckled at the thought that she had no idea how true that statement was.
He ran his lips over her neck, reveling in the softness of her skin.
“What is it about me that reminds you of this other woman?” she asked.
“Don’t talk about anyone else. I was stupid to mention it. I’m happy to be here with you.”
“I’m curious.”
“You smell like her. You must wear the same perfume.” Maybe that was why he’d first made the connection. Last night, he’d been too drunk to realize it was merely a familiar scent.
“So do you want me to...to say something this woman used to say? Or...do something she used to do?”
He lifted his head. “No. Just
She unlocked the door while he held her, and he shouldered it open. She thought he’d put her down once they passed into the hall, but he didn’t. He carried her straight back to the bedroom.
“Maybe we should open a bottle of wine first,” she suggested, hoping alcohol might ease her anxiety as much as it had last night.
“No,” he said. “You’re going to have to cope with your nerves. I want to feel everything, and I want you to feel it, too. And it’s already after midnight. I’m not wasting any time.”
He didn’t sound like a guy who was just looking for a warm body, for whom any warm body would do. Eve didn’t get that, since he fit the stereotype in every other way. “Why? Why does this night mean so much to you—without meaning anything at all?” she asked.
“You remind me of someone,” he admitted.
Finally, she understood.
That
was why he wasn’t interested in Noelle or another woman.
Eve wasn’t thrilled to learn the truth, but at least he was being honest. “I see. What’s her name?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“Can you tell me where she lives?”
He put her down on the bed. “Does it matter?”
“You’re the one who’s acting like it does.”
“Montana.”
“Did you leave her or—”
“It didn’t work out between us. She’s married to someone else now.”
Somehow that made this far less frightening than it had been a moment ago. It also made it less exciting to know he’d have his mind on someone else. But God, this guy could kiss. And once he started kissing her, it was easy to forget that she wasn’t really the woman he wanted.
* * *
Eve was less like Laurel than Rex had thought. She talked differently, moved differently, responded differently to the things he did. At first he feared he’d built up the similarities between the two women so much that making love to Eve wouldn’t be as satisfying as he’d hoped. But the more he touched her, the more he forgot about Laurel and the more he enjoyed exploring this new woman.
Physically, Eve was flawless, but he hadn’t taken her to bed because of that. He was looking for something else and, even though she wasn’t Laurel, she held a certain...promise. He liked that there was no history between them, none of the turbulence that had ended up tainting his relationship with Laurel. Despite the doubts he’d caused by being so secretive, Eve treated him as though he was what he seemed to be—a professional, successful thirtysomething businessman. That gave him a sense of freedom he’d never had with his best friend’s sister. When he was with Eve, it was as if he’d never been “Pretty Boy,” as The Crew called him. As if he’d never been the kid who’d screwed up and encouraged his little brother to jump off that ledge when they were cliff-diving or the angry teen who’d turned to drugs to numb the pain of being responsible for that brother’s loss. Here, in this town, he could almost believe the image he saw reflected in Eve’s eyes, felt almost as deserving of good things as everyone else.
“I can’t imagine the devil kissing any better than you do,” she told him.
“That’s because the devil taught me everything I know,” he said, and nearly chuckled at the thought that she had no idea how true that statement was.
He ran his lips over her neck, reveling in the softness of her skin.
“What is it about me that reminds you of this other woman?” she asked.
“Don’t talk about anyone else. I was stupid to mention it. I’m happy to be here with you.”
“I’m curious.”
“You smell like her. You must wear the same perfume.” Maybe that was why he’d first made the connection. Last night, he’d been too drunk to realize it was merely a familiar scent.
“So do you want me to...to say something this woman used to say? Or...do something she used to do?”
He lifted his head. “No. Just
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